


Sanctuary

by aeternamente



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: "I will always find you", I've created two separate religious hippie communes for this fic so I hope you appreciate it, M/M, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, even though they're already married, it takes a while u guys, religion and politics and all of that heavy kinda shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2020-11-22 05:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeternamente/pseuds/aeternamente
Summary: Years into the future, Caleb dies and is reincarnated, but in his next life, Essek has fled Xhorhas for reasons unknown. As Caleb begins to remember his past, he reunites with Beau and sets off to find his missing husband.





	1. Curiosity, Dread, and Other Reactions to the Future

Pippa sat quietly in the pre-dawn stillness amid a small clump of trees just outside the Blooming Grove. From her vantage point, she could easily view the nearby guest house. She drew up the hood on her green cloak, pulling it as far down over her head as she could manage. Her bright red face wasn’t easy to hide, but if she kept to the shadows, she thought she could manage to remain unseen. She waited, keeping her eyes trained on the house.

It wasn’t long before a dark cloaked figure emerged from the guest house. It was the Drow man—Essek. Pippa knew that about once every few weeks, he left the house before dawn and went—_somewhere_. And he didn’t return until after nightfall. She had once asked old Mr. Caduceus where he went, and he’d smilingly said, “He has his own business to attend to. Best to let him go about it in peace.” His smile did not falter, but a certain sharpness in his eyes warned her against testing this particular boundary.

And for a long time, months and months, Pippa didn’t test it. She just… kept track. There was a timing to when Essek took his day-long journeys, and it wasn’t long until she figured it out. She couldn’t really explain what interested her so much about this, but if there was anything she’d learned from Mama and what she said about the Traveler, it was that you always followed your curiosity, wherever it led.

And now, her curiosity led in the wake of this strange floating man, and whatever his destination was today.

The first pale glow of the dawn filtered through the canopy as Essek continued on, Pippa following at a distance with careful, quiet footsteps, just the way Miss Beau had taught her. She was grateful for the damp morning mist that obscured her from view, but the way Essek drifted through it with his dark robes and shock of white hair made him look almost like a ghost or some sort of specter. She shivered, realizing with a thrill just how far they'd traveled from home. None of these trees looked familiar. Still, she pressed on, knowing that if she didn't continue following Essek, she may not be able to find her way back home. There was no going back now.

Slowly, slowly, the morning light brightened, sending beams of light dancing and shifting through the mist. Pippa reached out her hand to catch one, watching the play of light as it illuminated her bright hand. She looked down and found the shadow of her hand against the forest floor, and then the light shifted. Grinning, she chased it and caught it again, then started hopping from one beam to the next, a game she often played beneath the trees outside her temple...

Then she remembered--her mission! Heart jumping to her throat, she cast her vision around to find Essek. If she had lost him—

But he was right in front of her, and with a jolt, she saw that he was looking right at her, an amused smile playing at his lips. If her skin weren't already bright red, he would see the flush creeping up her face. She looked down, drawing her hood back (it caught for a moment on one of her horns) so it wouldn’t seem like she was hiding anything. "I'm sorry, Mr. Essek, I know I shouldn't have followed you," she mumbled at the ground, "but I was just so _curious_ about where you were going."

"Curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of," Essek said, "and you are very accomplished at stealth for one so young. I almost didn't notice you were there."

"...almost?" She allowed herself a glance upward.

"It took me until we were well away from the Sanctum before I realized you had followed." He quirked an eyebrow and his gaze seemed to sharpen a bit. "Now, if I may ask, what is it about my travels today that has you so curious?"

"It's just that..." Pippa frowned. "You've been living in the Sanctum as long as I can remember, but you haven't built a temple or shrine to your deity like everyone else does; you're still living in the guest house. But you _are_ living in the Sanctum, so you must have a deity of some kind. And you keep leaving, just for a day, and I thought maybe it had something to do with your deity, and I was just... curious."

Essek smiled again, showing his black teeth. "That is very well reasoned," he said, "and you are right, my trips outside the Sanctum do have to do with my deity. But I cannot let you see where I am going."

Pippa blinked. "But didn't you say that curiosity was a good thing?"

Essek laughed. "I did indeed!" he said with a note of approval. "Unfortunately, some secrets must be kept."

"I can keep secrets!" Pippa protested.

"I'm sure you can," he replied, "but this is a particularly important secret. I have to be careful."

Pippa sighed. "Okay," she relented. Then she remembered. "But um... Mr. Essek?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't..." she bit her lip. "I'm not sure I know how to get back home."

Essek seemed to consider this for a moment, then he waved his hand, and a thin, faint line of light shot out from it into the woods behind Pippa. She turned around and saw that the line had settled onto the ground, continuing back the way they came until it was swallowed up in the mist. “Just follow that line, it will get you back.”

Pippa smiled back at him. “Thank you, Mr. Essek.”

“It is no trouble,” he said. “May I ask, though, what is your name? You seem to know mine, so it would seem we are on unequal footing if I don’t know yours.”

“Peregrina Ksenia Brenatto,” Pippa said, somehow feeling like the occasion called for her full name.

“Brenatto… huh…” Essek murmured. “Well, Miss Peregrina, I would be remiss if I didn’t satisfy at least some of your curiosity. If you have an interest in learning about my deity, then come visit me at the guest house some day soon. We can talk.”

“I would like that, Mr. Essek, thank you!” Pippa agreed. “I’ll see you then?”

“Certainly,” Essek nodded. “May the light be with you, Peregrina.”

“You too, Mr. Essek. Bye!” And with a last wave, Pippa turned and began following Essek’s magical line home.

* * *

The Ilnetharia had ended, and Liseth knew they could not delay their departure any longer. The temple to Eilistraee in Rosohna needed a new priest, and they had agreed to take on that role. _Rosohna will become a home to you in time_, they told themself, _just as Kyvessslorulm is now, just as any place is with enough familiarity_. They weren't convinced. They sighed as they watched a few of the last puffs of kyvesssiln seed fly past them on the breeze. The soft clouds of white that had previously adorned the trees had given way to the deep green canopy of spring leaves. Liseth began to sing an old Iglathiiri nursery song under their breath:

  
_Kyvesssiln, kyvesssiln, soft and bright,_  
_Where will you be carried on the Maiden's gentle breath?_  
_Into the harvest nets,_  
_Or the keen hands of a child,_  
_Or high above the mountains to an unknown destiny?_

  
Liseth had lived long enough to pursue a few unknown destinies, both in their first life and in this new one. They had also seen the routine, predictable succession of seasons and years here in Kyvessslorulm. Life in this place had a slow, persistent rhythm. The past few weeks had seen the whole colony band together to harvest the kyvesssiln and celebrate the Ilnetharia, but now the guilds would settle back into their own business. The Ky’huri weavers would have their year’s worth of Kyvesssiln to process, spin, and weave into cloth, while the Jurhis’argt farmers would move on from one harvest to sow their fields in preparation for the Fin’retharia harvest in the Autumn. If Liseth were staying, they would soon return to their normal priestly duties, the songs, dances, and rituals that marked the passage of days, of seasons, of rites of passage in the lives of each of the Iglathiiri, their births and deaths and marriages.

As they walked slowly down the path from the kyvessslorug grove into town, they allowed their eyes to rest briefly on each person going about their evening chores, talking with their neighbors, or taking a moment to watch the darkening sky. Some people nodded a greeting at Liseth, some did not notice them. It was all the same.

They arrived at the temple, their home, passed through halls filled with singing, and found their room. Inside, it was bare and empty. They had never been prone to clutter, but now all their possessions were stowed away in their trunk, ready to be carried with them to the teleportation circle. Every preparation had been completed, save for one final ritual, one last time in this familiar space. Their eyes turned to the glass-paned double doors into the courtyard. Shedding their robe and underclothes and unraveling the braid that fell over their left shoulder down to their waist, they pushed through the doors into the moonlit space beyond.

For several long moments, they merely stood, still and quiet in the space cleared for Tangis'linath. They could hear a few others elsewhere in the courtyard who had already begun the rite. They closed their eyes, still able to see the faintest glow of the moonlight through their eyelids. They thought of the air, thick and bright with kyvesssiln dancing beneath the sun, of the damp, green sweetness of spring in the valley, of the cool stone walls of the temple, ringing with the songs of Eilistraee.

Then a song came to their lips, a wordless song of home and belonging, of sadness and resignation, of the future and its inscrutability. Their feet began to move and their arms followed, tapping and swirling to the rise and fall of the melody they sang. Sometimes they paid attention to the way their song moved with and against the other songs they heard, sometimes they were lost in their own melody, the movements of their body, the soft whisper of their hair against their skin, the kind, smiling eyes of the Dark Maiden, who wordlessly reminded them that even in the unfamiliar place they were going, She would still be there.

Their song came to a final cadence, the last few steps of the dance leading Liseth back to a still, standing position beneath the eye of the moon. They took a long, full breath in and let it out... then another breath... and another... and they went back inside, pulling on their clothes once more and brushing and braiding their hair, first a smaller braid that then became one strand in the full braid.

With that finished, they knew there was no point in any further procrastination. In this moment, they still felt emboldened and reassured by the Goddess’s presence during their Tangis’linath, and any more time spent in this place would only weaken their resolve. They grasped the handle on the end of their trunk and pulled their belongings along behind them toward the beginning of this new chapter of their life.

* * *

The first memory came to Shulid when he was twelve, when the old bakery burned down.

He'd been walking home from nowhere in particular, when he saw the column of smoke rising into the air further into town, the sharp smell of it piercing his senses. He ran toward it, and soon others were running with him. Turning onto the main street, he saw the building roaring with flames—

—and suddenly he was somewhere else, somewhere he was sure he had never been before.

A house with two trees in front of it. Big, thick, bright green trees like nothing he'd seen in Asarius. But the house was covered in flames, licking, blazing, spouting smoke high into the air. The trees were beginning to catch as well. And through the window he saw two people... human, pale-skinned, screaming, crying, pleading. Shulid had never seen them before but somehow he knew they were his parents.

And somehow he knew that the fire had been his fault.

He wanted to move, to call for help, to do _anything_, but he just stood there. His vision lost focus, and he realized there were tears filling his eyes, running down his face. The smoke wafted into his wet eyes, burning, making his nose run, but still he could not move, could not look away....

"Shuli, what are you doing?" a sharp voice brought him back to the present. "Get water, _come help_."

Shulid got water, he helped. And for the rest of the day the intensity of the moment, the ever presence of more things to do and ways to help, drove the strange vision completely from his mind.

But when he got home and his parents embraced him and fussed over him and drew him a bath because he was _covered_ in soot, he remembered the people from his vision—the humans, and how he'd known them to be his parents. But how could they have been? His parents were here in front of him, the parents he'd always known, who were Drow like him, who _looked like him_.

_The vision must have been mistaken_, he decided as he scrubbed the back of his neck, the cloth in his hand coming away black with soot. The water was already tinged a dark gray, almost as dark as his skin. He looked at his hand for a moment, then dropped the cloth, letting it sink down into the wooden tub. He concentrated, and a small, contained candle flame alit onto his finger.

_The fire had been his fault._

He had always been able to summon flames like this, since before he could remember. His parents always said it was only by the grace of the Luxon that their house had never burned down.

Shulid quickly banished the flame, plunging his hand down into the water for good measure.

He didn't summon fire again for eight years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Pippa. She's Nott's great granddaughter. How did so many generations happen so quickly? What can I say, Brenattos (Brenatti?) reproduce young. Also her grandmama (Luc's wife) is a tiefling.
> 
> Meet Liseth. I created them just bc I wanted some stats to roll along with CR episodes....... and then the Iglathiiri happened. I've never played a game of D&D, but I've created a whole Drow society, whoops!
> 
> Meet Shulid. I think you know exactly what his deal is lol :P
> 
> Most of the words in Drow in this chapter are cobbled together from [this site](http://www.eilistraee.com/chosen/language.php). Some of them are just made up.


	2. Frustrating Encounters with the Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some dialogue from the show, which belongs to Liam O'Brien and Laura Bailey. Also there's one word of dialogue by Marisha Ray, and a paraphrase of some lines by Sam Riegel. There's also a bunch of historical facts, a few of which are taken from the show, but most of which I made up. I'm becoming a proper Kryn Dynasty historian for this fic, it's ridiculous. Also [Critical Role Wiki](https://criticalrole.fandom.com/wiki/Critical_Role_Wiki) is becoming my best friend.

It was the end of term, and Shulid had claimed a table in the Marble Tomes Library to study for his final exam: History of Dunamancy. To be honest, he wasn’t all that worried about this one. History was a lot of memorization, and Shulid was good at memorizing things. But he thought he might follow a thread of information from his notes that had struck a strange resonance in his mind, but which he’d placed low on his priority list until after the more difficult theoretical exams were over.

He paged through his notes until he found the relevant section:

_First and second beacons_

  * _ore discovered by Anyllas Kryn in the Holdurin Mines in 928 AD_
  * _AK fashioned ore into present shape over the next two years_
  * _Kryn Dynasty formed under AK with power granted her by beacons_

_Third beacon_

  * _discovered by Meileran Thelyss at Vol Khuranas in 471 AD_
  * _Meileran renamed Meilas Kryn, named as successor to AK_

_Fourth beacon_

  * _discovered by Rosothynn Mirimm in Penumbra Range in 7 PD_
  * _Rosothynn renamed Leylas Kryn, named as successor to MK_
  * _LK moved Dynasty capitol in 214 PD to Ghor Dranas, renamed Rosohna_

_Missing beacons_

  * _two beacons stolen by Cerberus Assembly in 819 PD_
  * _first attempt to recover beacon from Zadash in 835 PD failed_
  * _first beacon returned to LK by Mighty Nein in 836 PD_
  * _second beacon recovered in peace talks with Empire, later 836_

There. That entire section on the two missing beacons. He remembered sitting in lecture that day, taking down notes, and suddenly, every second word was echoing in his mind in this strange, but increasingly familiar way that he had come to associate with surfacing memories from his past life. _Cerberus Assembly. Mighty Nein. Peace talks_. Something about these words was more than just facts in a history book—it was _memory_. But not memory that he could recall in perfect detail like he was used to. These memories hovered just out of his mind’s reach, only occasionally coming close enough to see, but mostly just tugging and echoing at the corners of his mind.

Shulid found his eyes focusing on the words “Mighty Nein.” That name in particular felt… familiar. That was where he would start. Shulid stood and navigated the aisles, quickly honing in on the subject of the war against the Empire. He had to climb a ladder to get what he wanted, but he managed to find a few promising titles. He returned to his table and scanned through the books, but was disappointed to find that, though the titles had seemed promising, the books themselves offered almost nothing on the Mighty Nein beyond the mere fact that they were an adventuring party from the Empire that had returned the missing beacons to the Dynasty. Shulid sighed, running his hands through his hair in frustration. This was no help at all.

Head in his hands, Shulid read over one sentence several times, as if rereading it would somehow give him new information. _Over the course of 836 PD and into 837, the Mighty Nein engaged in an operation that would lead to the demise of four of the Archmages of the Cerberus Assembly, including Vess DeRogna and Trent Ikithon…. Over the course of 836 PD and into 837, the Mighty Nein engaged in an operation… the Mighty Nein… the Mighty Nein…_

Shulid blinked, and suddenly, instead of the book on a study table in the library, he was looking at a half-eaten plate of breakfast and a pint of ale sitting atop a weathered pub table. Beside him, a goblin (who he knew from earlier visions was named Nott) was running through a list of ways they could possibly steal coin from people at a nearby table.

Shulid heard a familiar, strangely accented voice coming from his own mouth, quietly discouraging Nott from attempting this theft by pointing out the coin was on the table, not on the ground. Shulid knew that the man speaking through his mouth was the man he used to be. In visions he’d had from this man’s childhood and earlier life, he was named Bren, but in later visions like this one, he went by different names—Frederich, Georg, or Hans, sometimes, but this goblin seemed to know him as Caleb.

Then, a blue tiefling girl came out of nowhere, apparently just to tell Caleb how bad he smelled, and Caleb stumbled around an awkward conversation with her for a bit.

“I’m just letting you know,” she said, “I would—I would hate if I smelled that bad and someone didn’t tell me.”

“I’ve only just met you,” Caleb protested.

“Hi! I’m Jester.” The tiefling extended her hand.

Caleb kept his own hand curled around the handle of his pint. “Hi, I’m, uhh… C-caleb,” he stuttered.

“Nice to meet you, Caleb.” Jester moved her hand up and down as if shaking the hand Caleb hadn’t offered her. “How much silver did I get?” she abruptly yelled back at the table behind her.

“Seven,” came a brash-voiced reply from the table. Jester the tiefling cheered.

_“Shulid? Shuuuullll…”_

Shulid saw a thin blue-black hand wave in front of his eyes, and with that, the tavern, the blue tiefling, and the coin-laden table beyond her were all gone. He had no idea why this particular memory had come to him. It seemed to have nothing to do with anything.

“What is it, Alista?” Shulid asked, rubbing his eyes and addressing his classmate.

“You were just kinda zoned out there,” Alista observed, blinking at him with orange-gold eyes magnified by her spectacles.

“Oh, you know… exams…”

Alista nodded. “Yeah, I think we’re all pretty fried. That’s how they keep us under control, work us too hard to care about anything else. Anyway, do you have one of the copies of _History of the Luxon_?”

“No, I assume they’re all being used by our classmates.”

“Hmmm, probably,” she agreed. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, just reading up on a few things that might come up tomorrow,” Shulid said. Then, trying to sound casual: “I was curious about this adventuring party, the Mighty Nein, the ones who recovered the beacons? I can’t seem to find anything on them past the basics that are already in our text…” He figured Alista was the best and safest person to ask, since she was a Rosohna native, so was more likely to know a few things, but also had a bit of an anti-authoritarian streak, so was less likely to question Shulid’s interest.

Alista gave a derisive laugh. “I’m not surprised you’re not finding much, to be honest,” she said, peering at the book Shulid had open. “They were from the Empire, so they weren’t likely to stay in the Dynasty’s good graces forever. Also, one of them was married to Essek Thelyss so I’m sure that didn’t help.”

“Hunh…” Shulid said, trying to ignore the way the phrase _‘married to Essek Thelyss’_ kept echoing in his head, or at least trying to put off thinking about what that meant until after Alista was gone. “Well good luck studying.”

“You too, Shul,” Alista said, already walking off to find the next person to pester about a copy of _History of the Luxon_, and leaving Shulid alone with his thoughts.

At Alista’s words, two realizations had hit him at the same time. The first was that detailed information on the Mighty Nein was probably censored in the same way that everyone knew (or suspected) that information on the former Shadowhand was censored. Anyone seeking the basic facts would find them, but a deeper inquiry would only prove fruitless and frustrating. Shulid suspected an enchantment—a very sophisticated one, subtle enough to escape notice, and very narrowly focused. Nobody talked about it though. Even Alista didn’t venture beyond the occasional pointed innuendo.

The second realization was that he himself must have been married to Essek Thelyss. Must still be married to him, he supposed. It didn’t come as a shock, exactly. He’d always suspected something.

When he was about six years old, not long after the Bright Queen had died, Essek Thelyss, who was at that time the Shadowhand to the Stewards of the Throne, had disappeared. He had been quietly replaced, and no official word had come from Rosohna concerning the reason for this abrupt transition, but there had been rumors at the time. That he had been the Queen’s lover and her death had driven him mad, or that one or more of the Stewards had been nursing a grudge against him, and had banished him once they ascended to power… Rumors and intrigue, that didn’t interest Shulid very much, yet somehow that name, Essek Thelyss, seemed to find a place close to his heart.

Once he’d come to realize he was consecuted, he began to see that strange warm familiarity in a different light. He knew he must have known the Shadowhand in his past life, and known him well. That was why Shulid had never told anyone he was consecuted. That and the fact that in his former life, he seemed to have been a human from the Empire. Whoever he’d been, he felt sure that Den society in Rosohna wouldn’t be eager to welcome him back.

Now he knew he’d been right to be cautious. He wasn’t just some former ally of Essek’s who could now claim to have been deceived by him all along, he was his _husband_, and he’d had some sort of involvement with this Mighty Nein, and they seemed to be personae non gratae just as much as Essek was.

Shulid needed to know more, and if the Marble Tomes was to be of no help, perhaps he could find what he was looking for at the Cobalt Soul.

* * *

It had been a while since Caduceus had had tea with Essek, and it seemed like it was about time to drop in on him again. Come to think of it, Caduceus wasn’t sure he’d seen much of his Drow friend lately. He usually kept mostly to himself, so that wasn’t necessarily cause for concern, but it was cause for… attention. He tried to devote at least some attention to every resident of the Sanctum, to make sure they were happy, that all their needs were met, that their journey with their deity was progressing in some sort of a productive way. He liked to cultivate his personal relationship with each person, to understand who they were with just him, and no one else around.

Essek in particular was someone with layers and layers of polished facade and persona that he presented to the world. Truly getting to know him had taken time and persistence, but patience had always been one of Caduceus’s strengths. Underneath the cool pleasantry, the gentle sarcasm, the sharp and schooled facial features and dark, heavy garments, there was a man—curious, determined, passionate, broken, and much warmer inside than the cool exterior would have you believe.

He also appreciated a fine, robust tea.

Caduceus gathered a pouch of Alperion family tea (Essek’s favorite) and stowed it within his cloak before making his way next door to the guest house. He knocked gently on the door. He listened for movement inside, but none came. Frowning, he knocked again a little louder. Still no response. He opened the door.

The ground floor of the guest house was a common area. There was a den with comfortable seating and a fireplace, a small library off to the left, a dining room to the right, and tucked into the back of the house, a small kitchen. Essek was currently the only guest, so he had all of it to himself, but he was nowhere to be seen on the first floor. Caduceus ascended the staircase, then followed the upstairs hallway to the very end where Essek’s room was.

He knocked cautiously on his bedroom door. "Essek?" he asked.

A pause.

"Yes, I'm here," came a soft voice from the other side of the door.

"May I come in?"

Another pause.

"Yes, you may."

Caduceus turned the doorknob and entered. He had only seen the interior of Essek's room a few times before. It was clean and organized and stylishly decorated as always, though a few things seemed out of place. A few books formed a haphazard pile on the bedside table, and two or three robes were draped over the chair beside the armoire. Essek was pulling himself into a sitting position on the side of his bed, wearing a simple black shirt and trousers, dragging a hand through his hair to make it somewhat presentable

"I apologize, I was meditating and didn't hear you come in," Essek said with all of his habitual charm, though his eyes seemed tired and distant.

"Are you feeling well, Essek?" Caduceus asked.

Essek paused, the cool polite facade sliding from his face. "I'm..." he hesitated, "I don't quite know how I'm feeling. I haven't had much to occupy myself with for some time, no clear objective to aim for. I'm just... here. That gets tiring."

Caduceus nodded. "It’s quiet here most of the time. I like it, but I know not everyone does."

"Of course it's lovely here," Essek hastened to reassure him. "It's like being on a holiday, which is not something I've allowed myself much leave to enjoy in my life before now. But I didn't expect the holiday to last twelve years." With the last few words, his voice went shaky and brittle, his eyes betraying a hint of anxiety.

"You're worried about Caleb," Caduceus observed.

Essek's eyes made small movements, as if calculating something. "Anamnesis usually begins some time in adolescence. He should remember _some_ things by now. He should be at least somewhat curious about it, at least if I know Caleb at all."

"I daresay you know him pretty well." Caduceus smiled. "I know him pretty well myself, and he's also very cautious. He doesn't share things about himself easily. I imagine that's a barrier in his current situation."

Essek exhaled slowly. "That is also true." His hands clenched in his lap. He rose to float aimlessly around the room. "I wish I could go back and try to find him. I wish I could do _something_."

"It's dangerous for you to go back now."

"I know that," Essek said in clipped tones, "but I happen to be quite good at working in secrecy."

"There is no need for you to take the risk and you know it," Caduceus said firmly. "Beau has been looking for him. Have you sent her a message lately?"

"Of course I have. Nothing to report. As always."

"Beau will find him."

"Unless something went wrong." Essek's fingers worried at the hem of his shirt.

"What would go wrong?"

"He could have died at some point in childhood, and then he would simply be reborn again. Not catastrophic, but it delays things," Essek said, "but the truly worrying possibility is that someone prevented his soul from being reincarnated."

"That can be done?"

"I only know from my historical studies that it _has_ been done," Essek said. "I have never learned how, nor would I want to. I thought that Caleb would be presumed too unimportant to bother with such a thing, especially since I was still in good standing with the Dynasty when he died, but..."

"But now your mind is assuming the worst," Caduceus finished.

This put a pause to Essek's nervous floating. "Perhaps I'm being foolish," he said, looking abashed.

"You love him," Caduceus said, "and love can make anyone foolish. I think what you need is something to occupy yourself, some kind of project. You're dwelling on this too much."

“What sort of project would you suggest?”

“That’s for you to decide.”

Essek sat once more on the edge of his bed, his expression pensive. “There is something I’ve thought of taking on, but…” he paused, “we must always be careful with divulging Dunamantic secrets. Such powerful magic in the wrong hands can be catastrophic, so I have to be certain.”

“You want to teach Pippa,” Caduceus guessed.

Essek’s eyes snapped up to Caduceus in surprise. Then after a moment, he smiled. “You really don’t miss anything.”

“I try not to.”

“She’s very bright,” Essek said. “I think she would do well. And she is at about the right age to start learning, if she wants to. But I’m not sure I trust myself to make the judgment. I would normally go to a priest for guidance on the matter…”

“Is that what you did with Caleb?”

“I did,” Essek replied, “at least I did after the first lesson, which I admit was a bit spur of the moment.”

Caduceus pondered this a moment, then stood. “Well, we don’t have any priests of the Luxon here, but I think we can figure out some way to get you the guidance you need,” he said. “But first, let’s have some tea.”

* * *

"Yes, hello, I would like to look at some books."

Beau had to force herself not to pause as she passed through the atrium of the Cobalt Soul. That voice was... familiar.

"We do have a few of those," deadpanned Velathir, who was working the front desk today, "Is there a particular subject that interests you?"

Beau reached the archway at the far end of the atrium and backed herself behind the pillar to one side, peering around the edge of it to catch a glimpse of the person at the front desk. A young Drow man, maybe twenty, longish white hair pulled into a ponytail, wearing the dark purple, silver lined robes of a student at the Marble Tomes. His speech had been Undercommon-accented as you might expect, but the tone, the cadence....

"I'd like to read about the war with the Empire, and the people who played a significant role in it," the Drow said.

Beau raised her eyebrows at the subject matter. At this point, the evidence was beginning to pile up. She was half tempted to stride out from her hiding place and intervene—_couldn't help but overhearing, and it just so happens..._ Yes, that could speed up the process of making contact with this kid who's probably Caleb (_holy shit that's probably Caleb_), and years ago it would've been exactly her style to run into this head first, but she had moved past the days of approaching delicate situations with a sledgehammer. Mostly.

She drew a measured breath and turned to continue down the hallway, away from probably-Caleb. She found one of the alcoves in the wall with a bench in it and stationed herself there, casually pulling out her notebook and pretending to review its contents, blending in with all the nerd-monks who cared more than she did about reading and shit. She stole occasional glances toward the atrium, knowing that probably-Caleb would be escorted through this hall on his way to the research chambers.

A few minutes later, a lower-level novitiate strode through the hall, the young Drow man following behind her. His eyes darted around as if catching every detail and committing it to memory. Beau focused her eyes back on her notebook and slowly counted to five, then, pretending to have found what she was looking for in her notes, closed the book and stood up, walking after the two figures down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thiiiiingggssss are starting to haaappppeennnnn~~~
> 
> Oh and in case you were confused, yes there's an Archive of the Cobalt Soul in Rosohna now. A lot of things are different all over Wildemount, actually. We'll be seeing more of that as the story progresses.


	3. Trying to Remember, Beginning to Prepare

Shulid surveyed the books he'd been provided. _The War of Wildemount_ read one of the spines, _The Dynasty and the Empire_, _Heroes of the Dynasty and Their Exploits_, _Chronicles of the Great Wars Volume XIV_. He drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment, then selected _Heroes of the Dynasty_, flipping through in search of relevant information. _Ah._

_In 836, it was discovered that the missing Luxon beacon was in possession of an adventuring party from the Empire known as the Mighty Nein when they presented it to the Bright Queen. How they came to be in possession of the beacon rema—_

The door swung open and Shulid looked up as a lithe, older human woman strode into the room. "Hi, I'm Beau," she said.

Shulid blinked. Something about this woman pulled at the edges of his memory—the distant, almost disembodied recollections he'd come to associate with his past life. He ignored that mental tug for the moment. "Did you have another book...?" he asked, seeing that she wore the garments of a Cobalt Soul monk.

The woman named Beau smirked and crouched rather than sat on the chair across from him, her shins resting against the table. "I can do you one better," she said. "I overheard you talking to Velathir up front—you wanted to know about significant figures from the war with the Empire? Well, you're looking at one." She puffed her chest and fixed him with a startlingly sharp blue stare.

Shulid stared back, still trying to place her, but his brain couldn't quite pull the pieces together. He hated being unable to remember things clearly, it was so foreign to his meticulously organized mind. "Did you fight on the side of the Empire, then?" he asked, deducing from the fact that she was human, and of the Cobalt Soul, which was not established in Rosohna until after the war.

Beau snorted. "Fuck no."

"For the Dynasty?"

"Ish?" She made a wavering gesture. "We mostly just wanted the war to end. And get rid of the demons. The demons were really the bigger threat."

"We?"

"The Mighty Nein." She grinned and gestured broadly.

"The Mighty Nein..." Shulid repeated. He made a quick mental calculation, then decided to take a risk. "I'm trying to figure out why that name is so familiar to me," he admitted.

Beau smiled knowingly. "I think I know why," she said.

"Will you tell me?"

She gave him another long stare, then said, "Yes, but not here. I’m… not sure where would be a good place to talk. I’ll figure that out. Can you meet me back here tomorrow?”

Now that his exams were over, Shulid had all the time in the world. “Certainly,” he said. “What time, exactly?”

“Uhhh… how about seven tomorrow night? Up front in the atrium. We’ll go from there.”

Shulid nodded. “I will be there.”

"Sweet. See you then." With that, she lept lightly from her perch on the chair and walked back to the door. She paused for a moment at the threshold. "I wouldn't bother with those books, by the way. Half of what they say about us is bullshit anyway."

Once the monk left the room, Shulid promptly ignored her advice and flipped through a few more pages of the book he'd been reading before she arrived. He found a section with brief biographies of each of the members of the Mighty Nein. There were a few names among them that he could now pair with faces: Veth Brenatto, also known as Nott the Brave—the goblin he'd traveled with, Jester Lavorre—the tiefling who had told him to take a bath, Beauregard Lionett—the monk who had just left the room. And then there was Caleb Widogast—human wizard, married to Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, later accepted into Den Elythrinn. A scribbled addendum in the margin gave a year of death: 865—

—the year Shulid was born.

* * *

The familiar, spicy smell of incense filled the air. Caduceus offered his hands to Essek across the table, and Essek placed his own hands in his, noticing as he did just how large the firbolg’s hands were. Essek’s fingers, long as they were, barely reached past the first two fingers on both of Caduceus’s hands. His thumbs closed over the top of Essek’s hands, enveloping them completely.

Caduceus was attempting something unorthodox—trying to seek the help of the Luxon by proxy of communing with the Wildmother. Essek was skeptical as to whether this had any chance of succeeding, but he figured that, with a deity like her, and given Caduceus’s easy, comfortable relationship with her, it wouldn’t go disastrously wrong. At worst, perhaps a bit of wasted incense.

Caduceus closed his eyes and remained silent for a long moment. He took deep breath in through his nose, held it for several seconds, and let it out.

“Wildmother,” he began, “we come to you seeking the aid of another that you may know: the Luxon, the Lord of Light. Can you help us speak with him?”

He paused for what seemed an eternity. Essek felt his hands tensing in Caduceus’s grasp. He studied the firbolg’s face, trying to find any sign of what the answer might be. Then the plume of smoke rising from the table shifted as if blown by a soft breeze. Caduceus’s eyes slid open, glowing white and pupil-less in his trance state, and he smiled. “I think this might work. You may ask your questions now.”

Essek swallowed. “Should I go to find Caleb?” He knew perhaps this shouldn’t be his first priority, but he also knew it was the thing he most needed an answer for.

Caduceus sat quietly for some time, his attention focused within himself. Then he spoke: “No. Your place is here.”

Essek nodded. He had expected as much, though it was a bit frustrating. Next question: “Would it be wise to take on Peregrina Brenatto as a student in Dunamancy?”

Immediately, there seemed to be a jolt through Caduceus’s body. His eyes widened, then he laughed. “Well, then! Okay,” he said, still chuckling. “I’ll take that as a definite yes. One more question.”

Essek almost didn’t dare speak his fear, and when he did, it came out in a whisper: “Is Caleb still alive?”

Another silence. Then, “He is alive. He’s… trying to remember.”

Essek let out a long breath as he watched the sacred magic fade from Caduceus’s eyes. The firbolg blinked, adjusting back to mundane reality, then his face broadened into a soft, wide grin.

“I thought that went well.”

“To be honest, I wasn’t expecting that to work,” Essek admitted as he began to clear the table.

“Oh, I knew it would,” Caduceus said. “You just need to have some faith.”

Essek shook his head. “I will never have as much faith as you, Caduceus. But that’s why I’m glad to count you among my friends.”

* * *

Beau hefted herself up onto the lowest hanging branch of the Xhorhaus tree, using the momentum from her first upward swing to propel her to the next branch. Finding a comfortable rhythm, she swung higher, higher, grasping each sturdy branch firmly in the grip of her hands, her feet, her hands, her feet, her way faintly illuminated by passing globes of sunlight, until she found her usual resting place at the very top.

Dairon wasn't here yet, but Beau was a bit early. They would come soon enough. While she waited, she pulled a glass ball out of her pocket. She focused on it, and it began to glow. She looked around for anything invisible the ball would have revealed, particularly the telltale floating sphere of a scry spell. She poked her head out of the top of the tree for good measure but, even with her goggles, the dark Rosohna sky revealed nothing. For now.

Pocketing the ball, she climbed back down to where the lowest branches separated out from the trunk and then she took the ball out again and nestled in the middle of them, where it would be in range of the top of the stairs leading down the tower to the rest of the house, then she began to pull herself back up to the treetop.

Beau had commissioned the enchantment of this ball from Pumat soon after the Mighty Nein went their separate ways. Now that Fjord had returned to sailing the islands off the Menagerie Coast, she knew she couldn't rely on the ability he had with his sword to detect invisibility. Particularly here in the Xhorhaus, that was a necessity. They couldn't rely on much, but Beau knew they could always count on the Dynasty to spy on them. Hell, that was probably why they still had this damn house.

It was a bit surprising that in the years following Caleb's death and Essek's departure, the Dynasty had never stripped the Xhorhaus from their possession, but twenty years on, it was still theirs. It was surprising and suspicious. The house remained open to any of the former members of the Mighty Nein and their friends and allies who had reason to stay in Rosohna, but all who stayed here knew of the possibility—probability, more like—that what they said and did within its walls would not remain private.

But the very top of Caduceus's tree that still grew from its tower, that was a little easier to secure, a little harder to infiltrate. That is where Beau and Dairon usually spoke privately with each other when they needed to.

As she settled back down onto her branch, Beau felt the telltale subtle, periodic shift of weight from lower in the tree that let her know Dairon was on their way. She peered down into the foliage below, but even her nightvision goggles were no match for Dairon's stealth. They were nearly in front of her before she caught sight of them. As always, Beau was impressed, and maybe a bit aroused, but now was not the time.

"It's safe?" Dairon asked with no preamble, perching on a branch across from Beau.

"It's safe," Beau confirmed.

"Alright then, what did you want to discuss?"

Beau gathered her thoughts. She wasn't sure she wanted to state outright that she had found Caleb, so she decided to frame her request in a more roundabout way. "Would you happen to know of someone who would be capable of performing... priestly duties of the Luxon... without informing the Dynasty?"

Dairon's eyes narrowed. "What kind of duties do you mean?"

"Helping someone through the process of anamnesis, specifically."

"Ah, that is a sensitive situation," Dairon acknowledged, something in the quirk of their eyebrow suggesting they understood exactly which situation Beau was referring to. "The Dynasty does like to... _keep a close eye_ on their consecuted. But I myself have had cause to find outside access to such religious information, and have found some success at the Temple of Eilistraee."

"Eilistraee?"

"A Drow goddess. Of dancing and music, and, crucially, light."

"I see."

"Some of her followers have incorporated aspects of Dunamancy into their religious practice, and I believe there is even a Den associated with their temple, but they are not directly associated with the Dynasty. I would look there."

Beau fished her notebook out of her pocket and began jotting down the information. "Where is this temple?"

"In the Gallimaufry district, just across the street from the Vial and Serum potions shop."

"Across from... Vial and Serum.... Got it." Beau snapped her book shut.

"Have you eaten?" Dairon asked.

"Not yet. Why?"

"I could make some dinner," they offered. "I found a bottle of Lyth’ustalia family wine. A good vintage from what I'm told. I think you'd like it."

Beau smirked. "Are you trying to seduce me, Dairon?"

Dairon's expression didn't change an inch, which Beau had come to know was itself a tell. "That's for you to find out," they said, then promptly leapt off their branch, silently landing several feet below, and began to swing down to the top of the tower.

Grinning, Beau followed them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interestingly enough, the idea of the Xhorhaus being spied on was part of this chapter before last week's episode, but watching it gave me some ideas to flesh things out a bit, which was fun! No idea how long this fic will continue to be canon-compliant, but I'm ok if it ends up being an AU.
> 
> As long as Matt doesn't make Essek evil. [glares at Matt Mercer] Don't u fucking dare.


	4. Trust, and What is Required to Earn It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a bit longer, and tbh, there might be more of a wait between chapters going forward. Setting up a plot is easy. Keeping it going? Much harder. But I care about this story a whole lot, so I plan to keep at it!
> 
> We've got another scene from the show in this chapter. Dialogue from that scene was created by Liam O'Brien, Marisha Ray, and Sam Riegel.

The Temple of Eilistraee was a simple brick building, hardly anything Beau would have recognized as a temple had she not been told of it. There was no sign, no writing on the wall, but on the door there was a picture of a beautiful Drow woman, naked and dancing in front of a full moon, her long silvery hair flowing gracefully around her curves, her arms curling around a dodecahedron hovering at her chest. Beau had never been terribly religious (though she paid lip service to Ioun), but she thought could see the appeal of worshiping a goddess like this.

She pushed through the doorway into the building and found herself in a spacious foyer. Several tapestries hung from the wall, not depicting people or scenes, but abstract patterns, swirling and curving, rich in color, lit softly by orbs floating near the ceiling that reminded her of the dancing lights that Caleb always used to cast. The lights reflected on the glossy wooden floor below. From another room further in, she heard music—several voices singing, sometimes in unison, sometimes splitting into harmonies, flowing and seamless as the patterns on the tapestries lining the walls.

A smiling Drow woman approached. “What is it you are looking for?” she asked.

“Oh, uh…” Beau paused. “Is there a… a priest or someone I could talk to?”

“Certainly,” she said. “I will take you to Liseth. They will be happy to speak with you.”

She was led to a small room where another Drow with deep blue-black skin sat cross-legged on a wide cushion on the ground, their long white hair in a braid draped over their shoulder, their white robes embroidered with in the same flowing patterns as the tapestries in the front room. Their eyes were closed, their hands folded in their lap. They said nothing, made no indication they even knew Beau was there. The door clicked shut behind them.

"Uh..." Beau hesitated, unsure of how she was meant to proceed. "I'm Beauregard Lionett, of the Cobalt Soul." Her greeting felt loud, too big for the small, quiet space. She grimaced.

The serene Drow in front of her opened their eyes, which were a clear lavender color. Their face remained cool and expressionless. Slowly, their eyes lowered and they nodded at a wide cushion on the floor in front of them, similar to the one they were sitting on. Beau stepped forward and crouched down on it.

They still said nothing.

Beau cleared her throat. "I, uh..." She still felt weird breaking the silence, but how were they supposed to get anything done if nobody talked? "I was wondering if you could help me? Or, a friend of mine, he's really the one you'd be helping."

The Drow blinked. "What sort of help do you need?" they asked. Their voice was low and melodious, and very quiet.

"My friend was reincarnated, and I've just found him again," Beau said, trying to soften her voice to fit the atmosphere, and maybe half succeeding. "Can you help him remember?"

"I have some experience with this," they said. "Is he a follower of Eilistraee?"

"Uh, no, he... he isn't."

Their brow creased the slightest amount. "Then I am unsure why you haven't gone to a priest of the Luxon."

Beau tried not to let herself get too disappointed; they hadn't said no yet. She paused for a moment to gather a convincing argument. "We need to be careful," she began. "There are certain things we don't want reaching the ears of the Dynasty, and from what I understand, the priests of the Luxon tend to be pretty cozy with the Dynasty."

The corner of their mouth turned up a bit, but no humor reached their eyes. "I wonder if it can be properly called 'the Dynasty' if the Queen is yet to be found," they said.

"That's... a brave thing to say."

"I don't fear being overheard here, and neither should you," they said. "But in case you are not convinced..." They clasped their hands around a pendant hanging from their neck. The walls pulsed briefly with a soft gray glow, and a barely audible melodic hum began to emanate from nowhere and everywhere. "No one but the Goddess will hear us now. She will know if your cause is worthy." They paused. "But I have not introduced myself. I am Liseth of Den Iglathiir."

"Is that the Den for all followers of Eilistraee?" Beau was pretty sure she was mangling the Goddess's name.

"Not all of us, just those who come from Kyvessslorulm, which is my home," Liseth explained.

"I've never heard of that place."

"Not many have," they said. "But, your friend. Why do you feel it would be unwise for his return to be made known to the Dynasty?"

Beau breathed in through her nose. She supposed now was the time to let herself trust this unnervingly calm priest. "He is the husband of Essek Thelyss, the former Shadowhand to the Queen," she said, lowering her voice, "and in his past life, he was a human from the Empire, like I am. I don't think the Dynasty would treat him kindly."

She waited while Liseth sat very still and continued to stare at her, _into_ her. The low humming in the room grew subtly louder, then faded again. Liseth nodded as if the humming had told them something. Maybe it had. "I have been concerned about the Bright Queen's death and the events surrounding it since it happened," they said. "None of it has ever been explained. And the Queen was too young to have died of natural causes."

Beau nodded. "It's all very suspicious. I don't know everything, but I do know where Essek is. He wanted me to bring Caleb to him when I found him."

"Caleb is the name of your friend, then?"

"Yeah, sorry, forgot to mention that part."

Liseth paused for another long moment. Finally, they spoke: "I believe you," they said, "and I believe your cause is an important one. I will help you."

Beau felt a lightness in her chest. She allowed herself to smile. "Thank you, that's good to hear," she said. "Could we meet with you tonight? Seven o'clock, maybe?"

"I could do that."

“Cool. I’ll bring him here then,” she said. “I might have another friend come too, if that’s okay?”

“That is perfectly fine.”

"Okay, I'll... see you then, I guess," Beau said, rising to leave. As she stood, her knees cracked loudly and a sharp pain shot through her legs. "_Fuck_, I'm old," she groaned.

Liseth let out a single note of laughter, perhaps the most emotion they'd displayed yet, "An experience common to all," they consoled.

Beau gave a thin smile. “Something like that.”

In truth, as a trained monk, she shouldn’t be feeling the pains of age this way. There were meditation exercises she was meant to perform every morning and evening to focus her ki, to sustain longevity and slow the deterioration of the body, but she was bad at remembering to do them. She made a mental note to make that more of a priority as she nodded to Liseth and took her leave.

But for now, there was still much to do.

* * *

It was not yet time to leave to meet Beauregard at the Cobalt Soul. Shulid was faced with that annoyingly intermediate amount of time between now and when he should leave to arrive at his destination precisely five minutes early—not enough time to apply himself to some task that would keep him occupied, but enough time to make waiting through it without occupation a boring endeavor.

Shulid sat down on the edge of the bed in his small dormitory room, suspecting that he would soon be leaving this tiny, familiar space for good. A handful of years had now passed by in much the same manner. Classes and study, classes and study. Hours and hours spent in this cramped stall of a room, reading, scratching out notes, practicing spells. Every year, he signed on to another year of classes and study, another year of living in this room because he couldn’t afford anything else.

But now he was going to meet with this woman from his past, and he knew nothing could stay the same.

He was still feeling uneasy about this meeting. He knew that as Caleb, he had trusted Beauregard. He must have, given all they had done together. But that was all he really had to go on, and he was risking quite a lot to speak openly to her about his past life. He could only hope he was making the right choice.

As he pondered this, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed in a different room. It seemed to be a room at an inn, but a much nicer inn than what Caleb usually frequented, from the memories Shulid had gathered thus far. Nott sat beside him, her large yellow eyes worried and uneasy. In front of him, lounging in a chair, was Beauregard. She was, of course, much younger in this memory than the woman Shulid had met yesterday. No gray streaked her dark hair, and her face was smooth and unlined. She looked about the same age Shulid was now. Her posture was slouched but her eyes were sharp and probing, questioning.

Caleb hesitated. He was nervous. No, nervous wasn’t quite the word. Terrified.

“Beauregard, may I ask you a question to start?” he asked, almost but not quite managing to keep the tremor out of his voice.

“Yeah,” she said, still staring him down.

“How do you feel about the Empire?”

“Oh, I mean—”

“Are you in favor of how things are going here?” he clarified.

“No, but I'm not in favor of many things. I kind of have a problem with authority and they're like the epitome of authority.” She paused and squinted at the ceiling. “I watched my father sacrifice a lot to try and impress those people. I'm not sure what it was for.”

Caleb asked more questions, probing further, trying to gauge her honesty, her sincerity. Shulid wasn’t entirely sure what he was getting at. The things Beauregard said felt like pretty normal contrarian but non-committal answers that a young person not invested in politics might give. Shulid himself might give a similar answer about the Dynasty.

“I really want to go to the library tomorrow,” Caleb said, and Shulid had no idea how that related to anything, “and this may be a very stupid decision of mine….” He trailed off.

There was a tug at Caleb’s sleeve. “What does she want from you?” Nott asked, her eyes radiating concern.

“Would you be willing to leave with me tomorrow?” Caleb asked, again apropos of nothing.

“Of course,” Nott said without hesitation.

“Just the two of us?”

“Absolutely. Right away. Whatever you want,” she said. Shulid could feel relief and affection welling in Caleb’s chest, though it didn’t drown out the undercurrent of abject terror beneath. “But why?” she asked.

“Is this secret that valuable?” Beau said, almost teasing. She seemed to be trying to ease the tension, but Caleb paid no mind. He was bracing himself for the worst.

“I am going to tell you the story of how I murdered my mother and father,” he said tonelessly, haltingly.

Nott emitted a high, pained noise. Beauregard’s face slackened in shock. Caleb plowed forward into his story.

Shulid already knew parts of what he related. He’d been trying to piece together the memories ever since that first vision of Caleb’s (Bren’s) childhood home burning down, the certainty he’d felt that he’d been responsible for the fire. He’d seen memories of Bren at school, desperate to prove himself as more than just a poor boy from a hick town. Shulid knew that feeling quite well himself. He’d seen Trent Ikithon singling Bren out as a protege, feeling the pride and accomplishment that Bren felt at this.

Memories of the training he then underwent with Ikithon were more scattered, more fragmented, less coherent. Caleb’s recounting of the events of this time was more comprehensible than the flashes of memory Shulid had encountered to this point, but was still a little confused, a little contradictory. He recalled it as a good time in his life, but almost in the same thought, talked of Ikithon’s cruelty and abuse. Shulid got the sense that Caleb himself didn’t know how to parse these memories.

Beauregard listened intently, sometimes contributing an incredulous interjection of how “fucked up” it all was, but mostly she let Caleb get on with his story. Shulid was glad to see that Caleb’s fears that he might need to run away because of Beau’s reaction were ultimately unfounded. All her anger was toward Ikithon and the way he had treated Bren, brainwashed him.

“You have a responsibility now,” she concluded.

“Which is?” Caleb asked.

“Keep this guy from hurting more people.”

Caleb nodded. “Well, that’s precisely why I want into this library.”

Shulid came back to himself and realized it was already two and a half minutes past the time he’d meant to leave. He stood and strode out the door, thinking if he walked quickly, he would still be five minutes early, as planned.

“Shulid!” came a familiar voice behind him.

He turned to see Thila, the half-orc woman who oversaw his dormitory. She was from Asarius as well, six years older than Shulid, and her presence at the conservatory had always been a comfort to him.

“I haven’t gotten your boarding renewal paperwork for next year. You are staying, aren’t you?”

“I’ll get to it,” Shulid lied, “but right now I have to go.”

He saw Thila’s eyes narrow as he turned to continue down the hallway. She probably suspected something. Perhaps Shulid should have filled out the paperwork just to avoid suspicion. Perhaps he would still have time to do it before… whatever came next.

The journey was relatively quick, and the weather was mild. It was a clear evening and he could see the stars. He made rapid progress to the Cobalt Soul and still made it there early. Beauregard was already in the atrium, awaiting his arrival. She fixed him with her sharp, intelligent eyes just as she had in that hotel room from his memory. She smiled, and Shulid found himself smiling back.

He had no idea what was about to happen, or even where Beauregard was about to take him. But he felt the beginning of something like trust beginning to form. At least, he was willing to give this a chance.

* * *

Evening descended on the Savolir Sanctum, and the dappled light of the tree-filtered sun began to dim and slant. In her room in the Hideaway, the Traveler's temple, Nott settled into the cushions in her little window nook, picking up her lute from where it leaned against the wall and taking a few moments to tune it. Nobody else quite understood exactly the way she had it strung up, but she had all her favorite chords right at her fingertips.

She caught her reflection in the window and smiled. She liked to think that passersby, seeing her in the dim light, might mistake her for the Ruby of the Sea. She liked to think that maybe, distantly, secretly, she could be related to the Ruby of the Sea. Mama liked to roll her eyes and say, "not all tieflings are related, darling," but Nott kept the fantasy alive anyway.

She began to strum, softly, idly, letting her mind wander. She saw a pair of squirrels chasing each other in a winding path around, between, and up and down the trees, and her fingers scuttled out a nimble, erratic melody to match. The squirrels disappeared, and she drifted back into a cycling chord progression.

"It was pretty boring today," she spoke into the air. "Ever since Caduceus told us to lay off the pranks for a while after what we did at the Cobalt Rest." She giggled. "It was worth it." The looks on their faces when they'd come into their library to find the books on each shelf artfully rearranged to form pictures of flowers and cupcakes... and butts and boobs and dicks. Some rude words spelled out. They'd discovered Nott in her hiding place because she couldn't stop herself from laughing. Her fingers now skipped across the strings in cheerful accompaniment to the memory.

"Maybe I should organize a trip to the city to give us something to do. Or even... I keep thinking there should be another TravelerCon? I wasn't alive yet when the last one happened, but everyone says it was amazing...."

She trailed off and so did her playing. Everything she was saying, she'd already told the Traveler many times over the past several days. She knew there was something she really needed to say, but... it was pretty serious. And it kind of wasn't very nice.

She struck a few pensive notes and let them hang in the air. "I'm afraid I might be losing Pippa."

She took a breath and continued. "I always meant to raise her to follow you," she said quickly. "I told her all about how amazing and wonderful you are, and I always included her in planning pranks and stuff. She's got a good mind for it." Nott smiled sadly. Her little girl was so smart and so beautiful.

"But she said today she's gonna go take magic lessons with that weird Drow guy. She's probably gonna start following _his_ god now too." She lifted her fingers from the frets and struck and open, clashing chord. "She said... she said--" Nott blinked and two heavy tears fell from her eyes. "She said you never really talked to her. But why wouldn't you? It's all I ever really wanted, that you would talk to her the way you talk to me. Isn't she good enough for you? Why won't you talk to her?" Her hands fell limp as she gave herself over to her tears. “I love her so much, I just want you to love her too.”

Through the blur of her tears, Nott saw the edge of a familiar green cloak. She looked up, and there he was, smiling kindly, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the cushioned window well. Two soft hands cupped her face and brushed the tears from her cheeks. Nott said nothing, only fixing him with her tearful, beseeching eyes.

“Your daughter has another destiny, one that is beyond my realm of influence,” he said. “I’m sure she would be as much of a joy to watch over as you are, but that is not my choice or yours to make.”

Nott sniffled. “What is her destiny then?” she asked.

The Traveler laughed quietly. “You’re very curious, Nott, and I adore that about you.” He sighed. “If I knew, I would tell you, but that too is beyond me.”

“So I’m going to lose her, then.”

“She’s growing up,” the Traveler said, “of course she’s going to start deciding things for herself. How would you have felt if your parents had told you what to do with your life, or what god to worship?”

Nott narrowed her eyes. “They wouldn’t dare.”

He took her hands. “So you must give Pippa the same freedom. She may not always make the choices you want for her, but she will always be your daughter.”

She nodded. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

“Now,” he said with a broadening grin, “what was this you said about planning another TravelerCon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you thought that last pov was Nott from the show. This is our Nott's granddaughter and namesake, and the mother of our beloved Pippa. She loves her daughter lots <3 <3


	5. One Step Closer to the Truth

The first to arrive was an elf, dressed similarly to the human from the day before in garments marking them as a monk from the Cobalt Soul. They entered without a word and seated themself on one of the cushions. Liseth similarly made no effort to begin a conversation, and they passed several minutes together in comfortable silence, the evening hymns to the goddess wafting to their ears from down the hallway.

Beauregard arrived next. “Caleb will be here soon,” she said. “I had him follow at a distance.”

Liseth and their new elf companion nodded in unison.

It took only a minute or two for him to arrive—a tall, spindly drow who looked over the room with an attentive, wary expression. Liseth motioned for him to sit, and he did.

“So to establish the basics,” Beau said, turning her attention to Caleb, “you’re Caleb Widogast, former member of the adventuring party, the Mighty Nein, and husband of Essek Thelyss. Though you may have already figured that out.”

“I have, yes,” the young man answered.

“Cool,” she said. “I don’t know what good it’ll do to go further into the details of your life story. We’ve got Liseth here to help you remember all of that.”

Liseth nodded at Caleb. He looked back at them with interest.

“I had heard that the Eilistraeean priests here have some experience with Dunamancy, but I was not aware that extended to consecution.”

“It does indeed,” Liseth answered. “I am consecuted myself, and in my second life, as you are. In fact, I was the first of my people, the Iglathiiri, to be consecuted, as I believe you were the first human from the Empire to achieve that honor.”

“I suppose so,” he said, “but I’m no longer a human, and in this life, I’m very much from the Dynasty.”

“Great,” Beau interjected in her brusque way, “so we can get your memories back, Caleb, then we’ll bring you back to where Essek is.”

“I am afraid it’s not quite as easy as that,” Liseth said. “Anamnesis is a process that will take time. The ritual must be performed several times to regain all the memories from past lives. For those with many lives to remember it can take months, but you have only one life to recall, and a human one at that. I would say it will take perhaps a week or two.”

“Okay, that changes things,” Beau said. “I was kinda hoping to be on our way in the next few days. I’m sure once Essek knows I’ve found you he’ll be very anxious to have you back, Caleb.”

“Um, if I might make just one small request,” Caleb said timidly.

“Go for it.”

“Would you mind… is it okay if you call me Shulid? I know that I _am_ Caleb,” he said, though the way confusion crossed his face as he said it belied his words, “but I’ve been Shulid all my life—this life at least—and… well, it’s just what I’m used to.”

“Yeah, sure, I can do that… Shulid,” Beau said with an experimental air. “Sorry, it’s just Caleb is who I know, you know?”

“That makes sense,” Shulid said.

“Do you have like, any nicknames or anything?”

“People sometimes call me Shul or Shuli. Either one is fine.”

“Cool,” Beau nodded. “You know you never really had any nicknames as Caleb. Nott tried to call you Lebby once. That was weird. It didn’t stick.”

Shulid laughed. “I have had a few memories of Nott. That sounds like her.”

“So you do remember some things?”

“A few,” Shulid shrugged, “mostly from earlier in his life. Only a few from when he was with the Mighty Nein.”

“You would eventually regain most if not all of your memories without intervention,” Liseth explained, “but it would take a very long time. The anamnesis ritual merely aids and hastens the natural process.”

“Is it possible in the ritual to like, request specific memories?” Beau asked.

“Yes, and in fact it helps to focus specific people or subjects,” Liseth said. “It can be especially helpful to include a person or object in the ritual that is connected to the subject at hand. For instance, Beau, it would help to include you in a ritual focused on his memories of you.”

“Okay, cool,” Beau said. “I just ask because we have access to a teleportation circle that could get us closer to where Essek is, but Caleb’s the one who knows what the circle looks like, and how to cast it.”

“I’m… not actually able to cast teleportation circles just yet.”

“I know, but Caleb could, and once you have his memories, you’ll be able to do it too, right? Is that how that works?”

Liseth hesitated. “To an extent, yes,” they said, “but the advancement of his magical ability will still need to take place in a certain order, though regaining his memory will… quicken the pace of that advancement.”

Shulid’s eyes widened. “So it will take only a few days for me to become as powerful a wizard as Caleb was at the end of his life?”

Liseth recognized the hunger in Shulid’s eyes. It was common to all wizards, in their experience. It always made them a little uneasy, but they put the unease aside. The memories were rightfully his, and they would not stand in the way. “Yes,” they said, “among other things. All of your abilities will return to you.”

Shulid nodded, still wide-eyed.

“You said it would help to have objects related to the particular memories you’re looking for,” Beau said. “Would it help to bring Caleb’s spell book?”

Shulid’s head spun around to face Beau. “You have his spell book?”

“Yeah, it’s back at the Xhorhaus,” Beau said. “I’ve got a lot of his stuff there.”

“The Xhorhaus?”

“Oh yeah, it’s just what we call our house. I know it’s a terrible pun. We’re a weird bunch.”

The other monk to Beau’s left chuckled. “That is an understatement.”

Liseth realized that this was the first time they had heard the elf speak. “I’m sorry,” they said, “I do not believe I know your name.”

The elf regarded them coolly. “I’m fine with that,” they said.

“Dairon,” Beau chided, “be nice.”

“Well, I suppose you know it now,” Dairon said with a glare at Beau.

“I am glad to make your acquaintance, Dairon,” Liseth said. “Now, if there is nothing else to discuss, perhaps we could begin the ritual? We can focus it on memories of you, Beauregard, since you are here.”

Beau shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

Shulid nodded in agreement.

Liseth withdrew a diamond from within their robes and placed it in the air between themself and Shulid. As they moved their hand away, the diamond hovered and began to spin very slowly. A soft glow of light kindled from within it and began to grow larger and shine brighter until it enveloped the diamond, and there was just a soft orb of brightness hanging in the air between them.

_Goddess give me strength_, Liseth prayed, and then they began.

"Come forth, Child of the Light," they said, "that we may see you."

A faint shadow like a wisp of smoke arose from the light, then took the light into its form and shaped itself into the face of a human man, long hair, piercing intelligent eyes. Liseth knew that if there had been more than one previous life, the shadow form would shift to recall each body this soul had inhabited, but there were no other forms to take, so it rose and dissipated into a cloud and settled into Shulid's body. His eyes glowed and he spoke.

"I have come," he said. His voice was different now. Zemnian in accent, if Liseth wasn't mistaken.

"Child of the Light, tell us your name."

He blinked in confusion. "My birth name or...?"

Liseth smiled. Sometimes in practice, these rituals didn't turn out to be as solemn and high-temple as one might expect. "Whichever name is the most comfortable for you."

He nodded. "Caleb Widogast," he said.

* * *

Pippa paused at the entrance to Mama’s room. She was asleep, as Pippa expected she would be at this hour, spread out to take up as much space on the bed as her diminutive, part-halfling form allowed, a soft snore escaping from her open mouth. Pippa approached the bed, slipped under the covers and snuggled up next to her Mama like she always used to when she was a little girl. She was taller than her mother now. That made everything feel different, like she'd crossed some sort of a boundary from which she could never return. Perhaps she had.

Mama shifted in her sleep, then her golden eyes slit open blearily. "Pippa?" she whispered.

"Hi Mama."

"Pippa, I'm sorry for what I said." She placed a gentle on Pippa's cheek. "You should do whatever you want with your life, even if what you want is magic lessons with weird Drow guys. Don't let your old Mama tell you what you can't do."

"Oh Mama, you're still very young and beautiful."

"Thank you, I know." Mama grinned.

They lay in silence for a long time. Finally, Pippa spoke again. "Essek isn't as bad as all that, you know," she said. "He helped great-grandmama and her friends during the war. And after the war, he helped her become herself again. He told me that today."

Mama's eyes widened and teared up a bit. "He did that? I never knew."

"Him and Uncle Caleb."

Mama sighed. "Maybe if I hadn't been so angry, I could've figured that out from all the stories your great-grandmama used to tell. But all I could see was someone who was taking my little girl away from me."

Pippa took her Mama's face in her hands. "He could never," she declared, and she kissed her on the forehead.

* * *

She looked up from her hiding place across the street as three figures exited the temple to Eilistraee. Shulid was accompanied by two monks from the Cobalt Soul, and one of them looked very familiar to her. At once, several things slid into place in her mind. She had suspected that Shulid was a consecuted soul, and now she had a better idea of what his true identity was.

This could be useful.

She continued to watch as, after exchanging a few words, the three of them dispersed. She stayed hidden for several minutes after that, then stood and went on her way. It was time to begin planning her next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!
> 
> ?????????
> 
> ....you'll see.
> 
> (Also, funny how there were two Expositors in the room for that ritual, yet Liseth was the one who did all the exposition... I'll see myself out.)


	6. Echoes of an Unfamiliar Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six chapters in, and we're finally getting to the shippy stuff! Sort of.
> 
> This chapter took a while to write. There were some nuts-and-bolts plot issues I had to work out, but I think I have a better idea of where all this is going now. The next update should be a little more timely!

The ritual itself hadn't brought memories flooding back to Shulid as he had expected. He had simply felt Caleb's presence within his own consciousness, and then he'd seen several split-second flashes of memory in his mind's eye, all featuring Beauregard, all entirely devoid of context. When he'd related his confusion about this to Liseth, they'd encouraged him to spend some time with the memories, and when he did, he found that he could easily call each of these flashes of memory to the forefront of his mind, and taking a moment to concentrate on any one of them would trigger a vision like those he'd already experienced on his own.

So that night and well into the early morning, he sat in his room, living through one moment after another of Caleb's friendship with Beauregard: memories of traveling with her, talking with her—sometimes arguing, but always reconciling, always coming to understand one another better than they had before. He had memories of fighting alongside her. He learned that Caleb liked to use his magic to enhance Beauregard’s abilities during combat, to make her faster or larger, because he knew that her lack of magical ability was a sore spot for her, though Caleb never thought less of her for it.

Though having access to these memories was far more satisfying than the sporadic visions he's experienced before, he'd started to wonder at first how efficient this method could really be. If he had to experience each of these memories in real time, wouldn't it take the span of Caleb's entire lifetime to regain his memory completely? That seemed to contradict Liseth's earlier assertion that this entire process would take only a week or two.

But as he lived through more and more of these individual memories, he began to feel a sense of the life structure that undergirded them all. After a few memories of traveling with the Mighty Nein, for instance, he could start to get a sense of the long stretches of time spent traveling that began to settle themselves in his recollection. There were some days on foot, some on horseback, or on the backs of moorbounders, some wheeling along in a wagon, some aboard a ship sailing the seas. There were early nights spent warily under the open sky, then later protected by a magical dome of his own conjuring. The visions themselves didn't reveal all of this, but it locked into place in his mind all the same.

Shulid found himself in an experimental mood. He began to wonder if, in the process of regaining these memories, he could at the same time achieve enough of a trance state to give him his needed rest and replenish his magical energy. If this were possible, it would be tremendously efficient. Experimentally, he began casting and banishing various Minor Illusions—a book, a cat, a lamp, an inkwell—until he began to feel the depletion of magical potential within him. Then he lay back on his bed and allowed another memory to come to the forefront of his mind.

It was a few hours later that his internal clock reminded him that he had agreed to meet with Beauregard at ten o'clock at this Xhorhaus she had spoken of. "It's in the Firmaments. It's got a huge-ass tree growing out the top of it. You can't miss it."

Of course Shulid had heard of such a house, and having hard of it, the idea of a house with a tree growing out of it had resonated in his mind the way all things relating to Caleb's life had. But now he had memories of actually living there, and the location of it within the city was now embedded in his mind the way any former home of his might be.

Shulid smiled and sat up in his bed. Remembering his experiment from before, he took mental stock of his magical energy stores. To his delight, he could sense that they had been replenished in the time he had spent in Caleb’s memories. Heartened by this discovery, Shulid dressed and ate his breakfast quickly and was out the door far earlier than he needed to be, arriving at the Xhorhaus before nine thirty, but Beauregard did not seem annoyed at his early arrival as she opened the door with a jangle of chimes. Shulid remembered those chimes!

"Hey Shul!" she greeted brightly. "Welcome to the Xhorhaus! I'll give you the grand tour."

"I don't need a tour," Shulid said, unable to stop a grin from spreading across his face. "I remember all of it!"

For a moment, Beauregard seemed taken aback by Shulid's enthusiasm, but then she grinned right back at him. "Cool," she said, "I'll just take you to Caleb's old room, then. That's where all his stuff is."

She led him through the entryway, the living room, the training room, and the library which was also Nott’s laboratory, and finally to Caleb’s room. The route felt familiar to Shulid’s feet—a path that Caleb often traversed when he was dead tired, a path he could walk in darkness, even though his human eyes could hardly see in it.

The bedroom itself was the same as his memory, but different. The bed was in the same place, but there were different sheets and blankets on it. The table was also in the same place, but the stacks of papers and books, the pen and inkwell, were all replaced by a few stacked boxes. More boxes were piled against the wall on the left side of the room.

Beauregard headed for the desk and opened one of the boxes. She withdrew a book that Shulid recognized immediately as Caleb’s spell book.

“Here,” she said, handing it to him, “this is yours now.”

It was an unremarkable brown leather-bound book, well worn and well loved. Shulid smoothed a hand over the cover, and then opened it. A folded piece of parchment fell out and down to the floor.

“Oh yeah,” Beauregard said, bending down to pick up the parchment. “This is a letter that Essek gave me to give to you. I figured this would be the best place to put it.” She handed it back to him. “I promise I haven’t read it.”

Shulid took the letter. It was held closed with a purple wax seal, imprinted with the Thelyss Den crest. Looking at it, he felt a strange warmth in his chest that almost seemed like it didn’t belong to him—it belonged to Caleb. Shulid didn’t know what to do with the feeling. He felt a little light-headed. He sat down on the bed.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Beauregard said. “I’m pretty sure most of this stuff is yours. Feel free to go through it and take whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Shulid said, but he was not interested in anything he didn’t already have in his hands. He barely heard Beauregard leave the room as he looked down at the book he held in his left hand, and the letter in his right. He felt a hum of excitement at the prospect of reading the book, while the letter made him feel… nervous, on edge. But he knew if he didn’t read the letter first, it would weigh on his mind and he would not be able to focus on the book.

He opened the letter.

_My own Caleb,_

_At this writing, it has been five years since you were taken from me. I know I will find you again. I know you're alive somewhere, a precocious young boy with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. I can only hope that the family you've found yourself in can appreciate the true blessing of knowing you, of loving you. As for me, I feel your absence like a wound that cannot be healed until I have you in my arms once more, but I fear our reunion must be delayed longer than what I'm sure either of us would prefer._

_I cannot tell you what I have done, or why I have had to leave Rosohna, at least not yet in this letter, but I can easily tell you why I did it; it was because of you. I learned from you that sometimes, for some causes, the rashest, most foolhardy, the bravest of choices becomes the only choice you can make in good conscience. I learned to take a great risk for a benefit greater than myself, and to feel no regret in it. I face continued separation from you knowing that I have done what you would in my place, and I take solace in that fact._

_I have entrusted Beauregard with this letter, and with the task of finding you and bringing you back to me, because I know you have always trusted her with your life. She knows where I am. So come back to me Caleb, my love, my darling. My heart aches to hear your voice again, and feel the intensity of your gaze. I know our story has not ended, but has only just begun, that we have many lifetimes stretching on before us, but I need to see you again to fully convince me of it._

_All of my being awaits your return._

_Yours,_   
_Essek_

Shulid folded up the letter and sat numbly on the bed for a long while. He couldn't say how he felt. He felt warm. He felt a dull, sweet ache in his stomach. He felt like he had just read someone else's mail. He opened the letter again. The language was beautiful, the penmanship precise with a subtle flourish. There was in the words such a genuine outpouring of love and affection.

It was all for Caleb.

Just an hour ago, Shulid had started to feel like perhaps he could be Caleb and Caleb could be him; perhaps he could begin thinking of these memories as a part of his own past, not as someone else's life that had somehow made its way inside Shulid's head. But _this_... this did not feel like it belonged to Shulid. He folded the letter once more and tucked it back under the front cover of the spell book, which reminded him that there were _spells_ to look at.

Spells were easier. Magic didn't make him feel like an impostor, it merely invited him to learn and explore. He turned to the first page and began reading.

* * *

_"Yeah, I found him. He's here at the Xhorhaus right now, actually. We'll come as soon as we can, but we can't leave right away."_

Essek was still feeling stunned. More than stunned, perhaps punch-drunk was a better descriptor. He'd tried in vain to return to the book he'd been reading before he'd given into the urge to check in with Beauregard once more, his curiosity overcoming his despondent certainty that there would be nothing to report, as always.

But he'd been wrong. Beauregard had found him. _She had found his Caleb._ How could he be expected to focus on anything else when, thousands of miles away, his Caleb was preparing to return to him?

It occurred to Essek that he hasn't yet made any response to Beauregard. Such news should not go unacknowledged. He cast the sending spell again. "That is very good to hear," Essek said, feeling the emotion welling in his throat as he spoke. He collected himself and continued. "Could you tell him...?" He paused again. What does one say to one's husband by proxy of a mutual friend after so much time apart? "Just tell him I love him."

_"Will do."_ Beauregard's concise response somehow still managed to convey amusement and fondness, as well as her mild distaste for all that mushy romantic shit she was caught in the middle of at the moment. Essek smiled.

The necessary communication having been accomplished, Essek found the nervous energy from before still persisting in the pit of his stomach. He rose from his seat and began floating aimlessly around the guest house's ground floor. He passed a window and saw Caduceus at work cultivating the plants in the Blooming Grove, smiling placidly as he always did, his wide-brimmed straw hat shielding his face from the sun.

He would, of course, be glad to hear the news.

Essek glided out the door and into the dappled mid-morning sunlight. Caduceus looked up as he approached. "Oh! G'morning, Essek!" he said cheerily.

"Prepare your finest tea, if you would, Mr. Clay," Essek said, unable to repress a playful flair in his manner. "My husband has been found."

Caduceus's face broke into a wide grin. He dropped the spade in his hand and rose to his feet. "That is just wonderful to hear," he said, his voice full to bursting with emotion. He enveloped Essek in a warm, prolonged hug, in the process, coating the back of Essek's robes in soil and possibly manure, but Essek was too pleased to care... too much.

"I'll get started on that tea—oh, this is just so exciting!" Caduceus turned to head back into his cottage, and Essek followed him. "I've got a vintage Whittengrove family varietal we've been aging for over three hundred years. The aging process really brings out the potency of the flavor, and enhances its natural sweetness—you're in for a treat."

* * *

Dairon didn't come this time. They said there didn't seem to be anything suspicious about Liseth. The priest, according to them, seemed sincere, and not as annoying as most people. High praise from Dairon.

So now Beau and Caleb—no, it was Shulid, Beau and Shulid—were sitting on cushions across from Liseth in a room that was growing increasingly familiar. It was nice coming here. Calming. It kind of softened that place behind her eyes that always got tense from being constantly on alert for potential threats. Not that she wasn't still on alert, but something about Liseth and the whole atmosphere here made her feel like the threats were perhaps farther away, less urgent.

"I have decided that I will come with you on your journey," Liseth announced once everyone had settled in.

Beau looked up in surprise. "Come with us to where Essek is?" she asked.

"Yes," they said. "It would solve several problems. We would be able to continue the process of anamnesis while we are traveling, you would have someone with clerical training with you on your journey, and I would be able to go to a new place. I grow tired of Rosohna."

"I'll talk to Dairon, but that sounds like a good plan to me," Beau said. "What about you, Shul?"

"Yes," he agreed. "I would feel better knowing there is a healer with us."

"Oh, and speaking of anamnesis," Beau said, opening her purse and withdrawing a handful of glittering jewels. "Ten diamonds, worth a hundred gold each." She handed them over. "I can get you more if you need them."

"Thank you," Liseth said. "I can only rely on the temple's stores so much, you understand."

"Yeah totally," Beau agreed. "We're just glad you're doing this for us."

Beside her, Shulid nodded fervently. "You have already been of so much help. Thank you."

"It is the Goddess's will, so of course it is my pleasure," Liseth said with a bow of their head, "but if I am going to come with you, I would like to have some idea of where we are going."

"Oh, right," Beau said. She looked around. Liseth had _said_ it was safe to talk in here, but—"Would you mind doing, you know, that thing...?" She gestured vaguely at the walls.

"Of course." Liseth grasped the pendant that hung around their neck, and once again, the room glowed and hummed with a soft melody. "It is for privacy," they explained to Shulid, who looked confused. Shulid nodded.

Beau took a steadying breath, and prepared to reveal what she had never told a soul outside the Sanctum. "Essek is at the Savolir Sanctum. It's—you know our friend, Caduceus?" she asked, gesturing to Shulid.

Shulid frowned. "I have a few memories, yes," he said.

"Well, he's created... kind of like a small commune of religious types up in the Savolirwood. That's where he's from, you know."

"Yes, there was something about his family's history..." Shulid's eyes darted in every direction as if cataloguing things in his mind. "Damn, I still can't remember."

"It will take time," Liseth said comfortingly.

"Yes, but I hate not remembering."

"Well anyway, after Essek got in trouble with the Dynasty, he decided that was the safest place to go," Beau said. "Part of the reason why it's safe is there aren't any teleportation circles there, or in Shadycreek Run, the closest city. But we do have access to a teleportation circle in Uthodurn, which is a few days' journey to the north."

"And this is why you asked about teleportation circles yesterday?" Shulid asked.

"Yeah, it would really help if you could get us there," Beau said. "Though I'm sure if Dairon were here, they'd suggest taking the teleportation circle in the Cobalt Soul to Rexxentrum. Then we wouldn't need to use magic ourselves. I just don't think it's a good idea to go through the Empire, especially the capitol city."

Liseth nodded. "I think it would be wise to avoid it."

"So if we focus this whole remembering process on Caleb's magic for now, how long do you think it will take—?"

"Um—" Shulid interrupted. "If I might—is it okay if...?" he trailed off hesitantly. "Before we go off to this... Sanctum or whatever it is, I think I would like to visit my parents. In Asarius."

Beau felt a prick in her heart. She wondered how much Shulid knew about Caleb's parents, whether his request now had anything to do with what had happened to them. "Yeah, of course," she said. "You're the one in charge here."

Shulid nodded uncertainly. "I thought Essek Thelyss was the one in charge."

Beau snorted. "Essek Thelyss is wrapped around your fucking pinky finger, man."

"That's slightly terrifying."

For a moment, Beau was caught off-guard by the way Shulid seemed… almost _afraid_ of Essek, but then she thought back to the beginning, when they'd first known Essek. Here in this unfamiliar place, they'd been forced to rely on him, but not quick to trust him, Caleb least of all. Anyone could see there was a certain _dynamic_ there between the two wizards, and Caleb became prone to bringing up Essek at odd times in conversation, before hastily adding the caveat of how little he trusted him. There was a similar ambivalence in Shulid now.

It was easy to remember Caleb and Essek as the fond husbands they would eventually become, but Caleb wouldn't be Caleb (and neither would Shulid) if he didn't put people through a long testing period before allowing himself to trust them. Beau figured it had to be kinda strange to know you’re married to someone without really remembering anything about that marriage. She’d probably be pretty freaked out too if it was her.

"...what do you think, Beauregard?"

"Sorry, what?" Lost in her memories, Beau hadn't realized that the conversation was continuing without her.

“We were talking about how we should travel to Asarius,” Shulid filled in. “It is a long way to travel—two weeks’ journey on foot. That’s why I don’t visit home very often.”

Beau sighed. “I remember that now, because when we were trying to save Yeza, we were in a hurry and wanted to get there faster…”

“Yeza?”

“Nott’s husband.”

“Nott had a husband?”

Beau slapped Shulid on the back. “You’ll catch up eventually.”

Shulid glowered. “At any rate,” he said, “I assume Caleb knew how to teleport? Without a circle, I mean.”

“Yeah, he learned how to do that eventually,” Beau said. She chuckled. “Essek was relieved when he did. We’d been relying on him to cart us all over Wildemount before that.”

Shulid blinked, absorbing the information. “Huh,” he said. “Well, I think the fastest way to get to Asarius, then, will be to continue the anamnesis rituals until I can cast that spell. There will be no point in trying to leave Rosohna before then.”

“Sounds like we should get started on that anamnesis ritual, then,” Beau said.

“Yes, of course.” Liseth produced one of the diamonds Beau had provided earlier.

The ritual commenced once again, but this time, Beau wasn’t directly involved in it. She watched the diamond glow and spin, watched Caleb emerge from it and settle his ethereal form into Shulid’s body. There was no flood of memories that followed. She just saw two people sitting, facing each other, sharing this intimate, holy moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opposite of the slashfic pronoun problem: writing a scene with three people who all use different pronouns, and that makes things easier, actually!


	7. Creativity and Convention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! Sorry this took so long! In part, I blame it on Best Fiends, which is a game I've been playing on my phone and have gotten far too addicted to DX
> 
> But I have returned with another chapter. And here it is!

Caleb's mind was everywhere at once, but also focused like a beam of light. Shulid could recognize the frenzy of the creative state from the work he had done on his own spellcrafting thesis (which remained unfinished, he recalled with a pang of regret).

If Shulid was correctly parsing the runes, the diagrams, the racing of Caleb's thoughts, it seemed he was working with the elements of Echo magic, but applying it to a fire spell. Multiple echoes of a single flame, hitting several targets at once. Shulid had never seen the components of Dunamancy applied in this way. It was ingenious. At the same time, he felt a familiar queasiness at the sight of the fire conjuration elements of the spell, reminded of how he had avoided fire magic for several years now, for reasons that were perhaps childish and irrational, but that somehow didn't lessen the strength of his fear.

But he had been able to conjure fire since he was a small child, and seeing Caleb's affinity for fire magic here, the way his creative mind immediately gravitated toward fire as a basis for the spell, he thought he understood now where that gift had come from.

Shulid noticed as he continued to observe Caleb's thoughts that while his mind was mostly focused on the spell, the magical components, how different facets of magical theory and practice might meld together and work toward his interests, every once in a while, his attention was drawn elsewhere. He saw Essek teaching Caleb the Echo spell, Essek praising Caleb's alacrity in learning, the precise strokes of his pen. He saw the way Essek might react when Caleb saw him next and showed him the spell he'd created. Each time these thoughts arose in Caleb's mind, he became annoyed with himself and directed his attention deliberately back to his work.

Until the spell was completed.

Caleb looked over and over his work, checking obsessively for any errors or components that might not work as he intended, though Shulid could see his work was immaculate. Then he started to look at his work the way he imagined Essek might, paying particular attention to the Dunamantic elements and how he had incorporated them. In the middle of this, he shook his head, chiding himself once again.

Caleb craved Essek's approval. He knew this, and it made him uneasy. It reminded him of his days at the Academy, how Trent Ikithon had praised his work, his ingenuity. How Caleb's need for affirmation had blinded him to Ikithon's true nature. He still was not entirely sure if he could trust Essek and his intentions, and he could not allow himself to fall into the same trap twice.

Caleb closed his spell book and stowed it back in the holster inside his coat. He resolved not to show the spell to Essek when they next met. As likely as not, there wouldn't be an opportunity anyway.

* * *

“You pulled the cord through the door when you left?” Dairon asked.

“Of course I did,” Beau said peevishly.

It was a precaution they always took. There was a symbol of Ioun hung next to the front door of the Xhorhaus, and it had dangling from it several blue cords, one of which they always pulled through the doorway as they left so that the end of it was visible from the outside. If it wasn’t visible upon their return, that meant the door had been opened while they were away. It had alerted them to intruders more than once, but had also led to a few false alarms when Beau had forgotten to pull the cord through when she left.

“I haven’t forgotten in years,” Beau reminded Dairon.

“And that is commendable,” Dairon said, “but we always need to be aware of potential risks.”

Beau huffed, then changed the subject. “So we have everything we need?”

“I believe so. Health potions, food rations…. You picked up the fingerless gloves I ordered from the tailor, right?”

“Got them here in my bag.”

“And I got… these ball bearings. Why did you want so many, exactly?”

“You’d be surprised when they come in handy.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Dairon said. Beau thought she might have seen a faint smirk on their face. “And you told Shulid to meet us at the house?”

“Yeah, and if I know him, he’ll be waiting for us by the time we get—oh look! I was right!”

And indeed, as they approached the Xhorhaus, Shulid was there, seated on the front steps, his haversack leaning against one knee.

“Hey Shul!” Beau called to him.

Shulid looked up with a small smile and raised a hand in greeting.

“So now we just need to pack a few last things, swing by the temple to pick up Liseth, and—”

"Beauregard," Dairon said, softly, tensely.

Looking to Dairon, Beau saw their attention focused on the door. As she looked to the door, what Beau saw made her blood run cold--or rather, it was what she didn't see. The blue cord they always left hanging through the door was not there.

"What—?" Shulid began, but Dairon held up a hand and cut him off.

Beau reached into her pocket and retrieved the ball enchanted to see invisibility. She focused on it and felt the added dimension of things unseen expand her vision. She nodded at Dairon, who opened the door. She grimaced at the jangling of chimes at the door, but pushed ahead into the living room.

She saw it immediately, an invisible figure standing in the corner. She swept across the room, her fist flying in a swift, precise blow to the base of the neck. She knew by the way her ki flowed through the point of contact that she had succeeded in stunning the intruder.

"Caleb, we've got an invisible person here, could you do something about that?"

She realized too late that she'd used the wrong name, but all the same, she heard Shulid mutter something, felt a surge of magic pass by her, and the invisible figure before her materialized into a half-orc woman, diminutive in a way that reminded her of Fjord. In her stunned state, she did not seem at all startled or frightened—she merely stared at Beau with a sort of calm, unwavering defiance.

Behind her, Shulid drew in a sharp breath. "Thila?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

Thila, still unable to move or speak, shifted her eyes toward Shulid, then shifted her eyes back to Beau in a silent request—_let me go_.

Beau stood prepared to renew the stun, but recognizing that Shulid knew this woman, she reconsidered. She made eye contact with Dairon and they nodded back at her, mirroring Beau's ready stance, prepared to take action if it became necessary.

Beau allowed the stun to fade.

Thila turned her attention back to Shulid. "I know who you are," she said. "You are Caleb Widogast."

"How do you know that?" Beau demanded.

Thila looked back to Beau, one eyebrow raised over her cold, gray-green eyes, and Beau felt small in a way she hadn't in a very long time. "I know this because I had some acquaintance with him in a past life," she said. "I am here because I believe we may be of use to each other, since it seems we both wish to escape the gaze of the Dynasty at present."

After a long, weighty pause, Shulid asked. "Who are you, then?"

"I am Skysybil Abrianna Mirimm."

* * *

Caleb was in a small chamber with dark crystalline walls that glowed faintly. Sitting behind a desk was a very old goblin woman dressed in ornate robes. She regarded Caleb impassively.

Caleb took a shuddering breath and bowed. "Skysybil," he murmured deferentially, "it is an honor." He took a seat across from her.

Shulid surveyed this woman he now knew to be the Skysybil Abrianna Mirimm—or, as he'd known her all his life, Thila Khadun. He could see the similarity in her stern, focused gaze, but there was no big-sisterly affection that softened her expression.

"You wish to be consecuted," she said, her steely eyes unmoving.

Caleb bowed his head again. "I do," he said. "I hope I have proven myself worthy."

Shulid could feel Caleb's stomach roiling, a sharp, panicked energy rising in his chest, pricking at the back of his neck as the Skysybil remained silent for a very long moment.

"By consensus of the council, it appears you have," she said, almost reluctantly.

Caleb's panic shifted into a searing, soaring sense of release. "I—I have?" he stuttered. "I mean, thank you. I cannot express what this means."

"The process is not complete yet," the Skysybil continued. "You must still find your placement in one of the Dens. Only then can we proceed with the ceremony."

"I would not be placed in the same Den as my husband?" Caleb asked.

Something hardened in the Skysybil's eyes. "While that is customary, in this case it is impossible. Den Thelyss will not accept a human."

"I see."

"But perhaps Essek can be of some assistance in finding your placement. He is well-connected in Den society."

Caleb nodded, barely focusing on her words through the numb, prickly shame that had overcome him.

"I wish you good luck. You may go."

Caleb stood, bowed again, and took his leave.


	8. Family in All its Different Forms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When somebody dies, and they're like, in love with somebody else, and that person gets really old and it's like a 200 year old person, right? And then the other person realized when they're like 15 that like, 'Oh my god I loved this person,' do they like, marry like the person when they're like, adolescent, or does it like, not transfer like that sort of emotional feeling?" —Jester Lavorre
> 
> That's it that's the fic.

The plan, as far as Dairon understood it, was to teleport to Shulid’s parents’ home. Thila, or more accurately _Skysybil Abrianna Mirimm_, had sent a message ahead. They would all have dinner and spend the night, at the insistence of their hosts, and would teleport to Uthodurn in the morning.

They were now all gathered at the temple to Eilistraee, including Liseth, who had eschewed their priestly robes for clothing more suitable for a journey, including leather armor that was embroidered in bright colors in a style Dairon was becoming familiar with, probably related to Liseth’s Iglathiiri heritage.

“Why exactly are we going to Uthodurn?” Dairon asked. “If Shulid has the ability to teleport without use of a circle, we may as well go directly to the Sanctum.”

“It _is_ possible,” Shulid said, “but the less familiarity one has with the destination, the greater chance there is that the teleportation could fail. I have regained some memory of this place, but not enough that I feel confident there wouldn’t be some mishap.”

“Nothing wrong with some good old-fashioned foot travel,” Beau said. “Shulid has Caleb’s tiny hut we can sleep in at night. We’ll be fine.”

“Exactly how tiny is this hut?” Dairon asked.

“I mean, it can be a bit of a squeeze, but we used to sleep in it all the time with the Mighty Nein, and there were way more of us then than there are now. There’s plenty of room, if you don’t mind cuddling.”

Dairon did mind cuddling, and looking at Thila, she seemed much of the same mind, but nobody said anything.

"We should probably also send a message to Reani and Yasha so they know we're coming to Uthodurn," Beau said.

Shulid frowned. "I remember that Reani lives there, but Yasha...?"

"...is married to Reani."

"Oh. When did that happen?"

"Oh they met when Reani helped us break the curse on the Savolirwood. Really hit it off, you know..."

"Huh." Shulid looked thoughtful. "It makes sense now I think of it."

"It does, doesn't it?" Beau's laugh lines crinkled. "Anyway, do you think you could message Yasha?"

"I guess so," Shulid said, "though she might not recognize me."

"I don't know," Beau said with a shrug, "you have a way of speaking that's pretty recognizable in any accent."

Shulid blinked. "If you say so," he said, then he went silent for several moments, presumably composing a suitably succinct message in his head. He cast the spell. "Hello Yasha, this is, uhhh... Caleb," he finally said. "Beauregard and I and a few others are teleporting to Uthodurn tomorrow and we would like to see you."

He waited for several moments, then straightened suddenly as a reply came to him, "Ah yes, she wants proof that it is me." He fell silent, chewing on his lip, then nodded to himself and cast the spell again. "In Rexxentrum, at the fighting pit, after you lost your match on purpose, I bought you a maitai and told you I understood."

That struck Dairon as a very Mighty Nein sort of anecdote. And apparently it checked out with Yasha, because Shulid soon got his answer.

"We may come to their home at any time tomorrow. Reani is very excited."

Beau laughed. "When is she not?"

"Fair point."

“Not to interrupt,” Thila said, looking actually quite happy to interrupt, “but could we be on our way soon? We are expected at six o’clock.”

“Of course,” Shulid said, and he held out his hands, readying for the teleport. Everyone joined the circle, Dairon with Beau on their right and Liseth on their left. After a moment, there was the sensation of a swift wind, and their surroundings were plunged into nothingness. Then they landed on solid ground—wooden floorboards. A living room, simple but well-kept. A drow woman and man sitting on a couch. They rose at the arrival of their guests.

“Shulid,” the man said, stepping forward to hug his son.

The woman followed, embracing the both of them together. Then she called up the stairs. “Shesti! Your brother is here.”

Moments later, a young drow girl, perhaps in her mid teens, descended the stairs. She had pin-straight hair that fell to her shoulders, and was wearing a shirt that was torn at one elbow, Dairon suspected intentionally, for stylistic purposes that they would never understand.

“Hey Shul,” she said, and gave her brother an awkward hug that he returned just as awkwardly, though there was genuine affection beneath it all.

“Good to see you, Shes,” Shulid said. He cleared his throat. “So these are my friends, Beauregard, Dairon, and Liseth.”

“A pleasure,” Shulid’s mother said, shaking each of their hands in turn, a ritual that Dairon reluctantly submitted to. “And of course it’s wonderful to see you again too, Thila.” They shared a hug, which led Dairon to ponder the ramifications of the the consecuted soul of a high-ranking government official being raised among the more common people of their society. They supposed it could have some benefits in shaping perspectives, even policies.

“I am Deilan Ernoth,” Shulid’s mother introduced herself, “and this is my husband Iliethar, and our daughter Shesti. We have dinner ready if you would like to join us in the dining room.”

They all duly filed into the dining room and settled themselves. Dinner was par freethin, a meat-and-vegetable pastry common in the Dynasty, which Dairon themself had learned to make some time ago, because it was quite enjoyable. Though instead of being baked in one large pie, these were smaller fried dumplings. Perhaps an Asarian variant. It was good. Dairon considered asking for a recipe.

"So Shulid," Deilan said conversationally, "what is it that brings you home so unexpectedly?" Her tone was light, but there was so much beneath that lightness. Happy as she seemed to see her son, Dairon could tell there were things that didn't add up to her.

Shulid chewed slowly on the bite of food in his mouth, taking in a deep breath through his nose and letting it out. Then he swallowed and spoke. "Something has come up that... I have decided I need to pursue. But I wanted to come home for a visit first."

"Well that's the vaguest thing I've ever heard," Deilan said with a laugh. "What has come up? How long do you expect it to take?"

"I, uh..." Shulid looked slightly panicked. "I cannot say how long."

His father looked up from his plate. "But you will be returning for school, right?"

Shulid avoided eye contact. "No, I do not expect to."

Iliethar frowned. "But this has been all you've wanted your entire life."

"Thila, do you know about this?" Deilan demanded.

"I do know about this," Thila responded calmly, "and if it assuages your fears any, I will be accompanying him. I am leaving the Conservatory as well."

"But what could be so important that the both of you upend your entire lives—?"

"I am consecuted," Shulid broke in. He was still avoiding eye contact.

Dairon looked to Thila and saw even in her normally inscrutable expression an echo of what Dairon felt themself. They had hoped to get through this without revealing that information, but it was out now, so they would have to make the best of it.

Shulid's parents sat agape for several moments. Finally Iliethar spoke. "Perhaps I should have known. You were always a... peculiar child."

"Nerd," Shesti interjected. Beau snorted into her wine.

"I suppose you're some grand mage from a prestigious Den?" his mother asked.

Shulid chuckled. "Not at all. I am... nobody important."

"That's not true," Beau insisted.

"Thank you, Beauregard," Shulid said with a small smile. "It remains that I had no particular importance within the Dynasty."

"But this is why you are leaving school?"

"It is."

"Well," his father said slowly, "you are an adult now. More of an adult than I am, I suppose. But stay safe."

"I will make sure he does," Thila said.

"We all will," Beau added.

Dairon nodded their agreement.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. The most pressing topic having been addressed, Shulid eased into a natural comfort with his family that reminded Dairon of the way he was with the Mighty Nein. Quiet, but happy, and even willing to crack the occasional joke.

They all retreated to the living room after dinner, and Dairon found a spot on the floor for their nightly meditation, but before drifting into the meditative state, they scanned the room for Beau, who had been neglecting her meditation too much lately, and it was beginning to show. They found her talking with Shulid nearby.

"Beauregard," they said, "will you join me?" They fixed her with a look that communicated what had always been the first rule—_don't die_.

Beau looked guilty, as well she should, and came to sit next to Dairon, assuming the same meditation pose. As the stillness took over, as their ki began to feel like a tangible thing, they heard Liseth begin to sing their prayers to Eilistraee.

"Two monks of Ioun and a priest of Eilistraee," Shulid's father observed from somewhere far away. "It seems our Shuli kept some interesting company in this past life of his."

Thila laughed. "You don't know the half of it."

* * *

Shesti descended the stairs quietly, knowing that there were non-elves in the house who would still be asleep. At the foot of the staircase, sitting on one of the chairs in the living room, was the Eilistraeean priest. They said nothing, just stared at Shesti for an uncomfortably long moment, then nodded. Shesti nodded back, feeling awkward. She wasn't certain about this priest. Something about them just seemed creepy.

She reached the kitchen and found Shulid sitting there with a cup of coffee, as she had expected he would be.

"Hey, big brother," she said, then paused. "Though I guess you're not really my big brother anymore, are you?"

"What?" Shulid looked up with a frown. "No, of course I am."

"But you're someone else now, aren't you?"

Shulid paused to consider this in a very Shulid-ish way that made Shesti feel a little better. "I suppose I am. Remembering everything is a process, and I can't say what will happen at the end of it all, but... I can't see myself not being... me, not being Shulid."

"You're just also someone else?"

He shrugged. "I guess so."

"That's weird."

"It's very weird."

Shesti poured a cup of coffee for herself. Shulid always made it nice and strong. "So what's the weirdest thing about remembering someone else's life?"

Shulid looked at her, his steel blue eyes piercing, calculating. Shesti had always wondered where his eye color had come from. No one in the family had eyes like that. Maybe it was a weird consecution thing. "You can keep a secret?" he asked.

"Always," Shesti said, taking a seat next to her brother and imbuing her gaze with an exaggerated avid expectation.

"I am married."

Shesti took too big a sip of her coffee and it burned in her mouth. She swallowed hastily, trying to ignore the way it scorched her throat on the way down. "You're _what?_ Light's balls, Shul."

Shulid smirked. "Don't let Dad hear you say that."

"But I mean, who is she? Is she pretty? What's her name?"

"He is very handsome, from what memories I have of him so far, though I have yet to meet him. I won't tell you his name, though."

"Huh. Things I didn't know about you," Shesti mused, "or at least about the person you used to be."

"No, about me too," Shulid said, staring intently at his coffee.

"But you'll bring him home to meet us, right?"

Shulid hesitated. "Eventually, I suppose I will. But there are things that... still need to be figured out."

Shesti shook her head. "You're being vague again."

"I have no choice. There are things I really can't talk about right now."

"Dangerous things?"

"Possibly, yes."

Shesti threw her arms around her brother, pinning him into a big hug. He got all stiff and awkward like he always did, but she didn't care. "You have to promise to come back, okay? After this is all done?"

"I'll do what I can," he said, patting her on the back, an attempt at a comforting gesture. He looked thoughtful as she pulled back. "Though, I suppose if I die in the attempt, I'll be back in another fifteen or twenty years in a different body."

"No," Shesti insisted. "you're coming back in this body, you're coming back as my brother Shulid, okay?"

Shulid just looked at her for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was very soft. "Okay.”

* * *

It was a quiet day at the Vellum Steeple archive. One or two people could be seen periodically walking the hallway balconies that lined the ascent of the steeple, and Reani, seated near the edge of the teleportation sigil, would follow their progress with her increasingly bored eyes. Or if there were no people to follow, she would simply follow the spiral of the hallways themselves, up and up to the top, and then down again.

The sigil glowed and Reani sat up straight, an expectant grin spreading across her face, but as the figures materialized within the circle, her face dropped. No, these weren’t people she recognized. Just some people coming in from Eiselcross. She slumped again. As they passed, the newcomers shot her odd looks, which she ignored, focusing her attention on the sigil again, but when it remained frustratingly empty and inert, she went back to tracing the maze of ascending hallways with her eyes.

The sigil glowed again and Reani almost didn’t dare hope, but one of the figures looked familiar—wiry and athletic. Reani jumped up from her seat before the group of people had even fully materialized within the circle. She ran toward them, squealing all the way, and wrapped her arms around her favorite monk in the world.

“What the—” Beau brought her arms up defensively, then seemed to realize what was happening. “Oh, hey Reani!” She hugged back, her embrace strong and firm, and Reani jumped up and down in her arms, bringing them both into an excited sort of hop-dance.

“Oh my god I can’t believe you’re here! I’ve been waiting all morning and you’re finally here!”

Beau pulled back from the hug, grinning. “’S good to be here.”

“Ok, but which one of you is Caleb? I _definitely_ need to give you a hug too.”

A very skinny drow boy raised a timid hand, and Reani immediately ambush-hugged him.

“I’m so glad you’re alive again!” she said into his shoulder.

He froze at the sudden contact at first, but then brought his arms up around her. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes hello I am still reeling from all of the ESSEK and all of the SHADOWGAST we got in this episode. Hi yes hello I joined two discords bc FEELINGS OVERLOAD HALP. If you would like to flail in the comments feel free. I will flail with you bc sOFT AWKWARD WIZARD BOYS IN LOVE I AM DEAD.


	9. Another Waypoint on the Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updating schedule continues to be slow, but I think about this story a lot! Specifically, I think a lot about how much to incorporate canon as it develops, and wow, has it been developing! But I think I've reached some important conclusions on that front, and I've made a couple of minor tweaks to earlier chapters to reflect that. I'm actually surprised how well everything is holding up, though?
> 
> Anyway, new chapter time!

Memories of Yasha flashed through Shulid's vision. He tried to glean as much from each one as he could, but too quickly, they retreated to the depths of his mind. He could feel Yasha's hand grasping his own, strong and steady, as the barrage of images slowed, then halted, and he could see his surroundings again—the small, tastefully decorated living room in Yasha and Reani's house. In the middle of the circle the two of them had formed with Liseth, the diamond used for the ritual glowed brighter, sparked, then vanished.

"So do you remember everything now?" Yasha asked, the corner of her mouth quirking upward.

"Not just yet. It's more like... I have access to the memories."

Yasha nodded.

A few feet away, Reani bounced in her seat. "That. Was awesome!" she enthused. "Is it my turn now?"

"I am afraid the ritual can only be performed once in a day," Liseth explained.

"Oh. Does it use up a lot of magical energy?"

"No, it is more for the sake of Shulid's sanity. Things can go disastrously wrong when the process is rushed."

The word 'sanity' brought back flashes of Bren's years in the Vergesson Sanatorium. As impatient as he was to regain all of his memory, he supposed Liseth's precautions were wise.

"So do you guys want some lunch?” Reani asked. “We could make it here or go out somewhere...?"

"I mean it's not really a lunch place, but I definitely want to hit that bakery Jester always liked," Beau suggested.

"Oh no! It closed down, when was that, sweet pea, like two years ago, three?"

"Something like that," Yasha confirmed.

"But it's a Zemnian place now. Pretty good actually! I mean, not that I know much about Zemnian food..." She flashed an apologetic smile at Shulid, "but I like it!"

"Yeah, it's not bad," Yasha agreed.

Beau shrugged. “Sweet. Let’s go there.”

With that decided, they all stood and headed toward the door. Just as they were passing the threshold into the cavernous streets of Uthodurn, Yasha caught her wife’s hand. “Don’t forget, we still need to pack tonight.”

“Right!” Reani agreed.

“Are you going somewhere?” Dairon asked.

“With you, of course!” Reani responded, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, we weren’t expecting…” Dairon exchanged an uneasy glance with Thila.

“Well we just thought it would be nice to see everyone again,” Yasha explained, “and as long as you were making the trip…”

“Yeah, it’s fine! More the merrier!” Beau interjected, throwing her _be nice_ glare in Dairon’s direction.

“But you had mentioned that Shulid’s accommodation was small…”

Shulid did a quick head count. “There’s still enough room for everyone,” he confirmed.

Dairon sighed. “If you say so,” they muttered.

They fell into silence as they walked. Yasha and Reani led the way, with Beau and Shulid following them, and Thila, Dairon, and Liseth bringing up the rear. It struck Shulid in this moment how natural it felt just to be walking with Beauregard by his side. His acquaintance with her thus far in this life was still rather short, but the weight of the years that came before settled comfortably around them.

Glancing up at his companion, however, he saw a change in her demeanor. Throughout the day so far, she had been particularly cheerful, happy to be reunited with old friends, but now she seemed to have turned inward, as she stared wistfully at the couple walking in front of them.

"I do not mean to pry..." Shulid began.

Beauregard blinked and looked toward him, then with remarkable agility, brought the cheerfulness back to her expression. "Pry away," she said with a laugh.

"From memories I’ve gained recently, it seems you and Reani were... involved at one point." He gestured ahead to where Reani walked with Yasha, her arm slung comfortably around her wife's waist. "Does this bother you?"

"Nah," Beau said dismissively. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Reani's fucking hot. So is Yasha. But I don't really do relationships. Dairon's probably the closest I have, and we're really just friends who bang occasionally."

"I... did not need to know that."

Beau shrugged.

"I agree," Dairon said, appearing on Beau's other side out of nowhere, "he did not need to know that."

Beau shrugged again with a crooked grin. Dairon rolled their eyes and dropped back to continue a conversation with Thila.

"I apologize for intruding," Shulid said, looking down nervously. "It was just that you seemed sad just now."

Beau chuckled. "You always have been a nosy little shit," she said, "and annoyingly perceptive, too." She sighed. "It's more that seeing them reminds me of... of what I lost."

Shulid frowned. From the way she said this, it seemed Beauregard had assumed that Shulid knew what she had lost, but nothing came to his mind. It was probably a gap in his memory. He still had a lot of those… too many.

They soon arrived at the restaurant. It was a stone structure, like most of the buildings in Uthodurn, but it had been painted to look like it was composed of large criss-crossing wooden beams in the Zemnian style. They walked through the door into a brightly lit interior that caused Shulid to squint and shade his eyes with a hand. Of course he would need to get used to bright light, seeing as he wouldn’t have the artificial darkness of Rosohna (or indeed the underground dimness of Uthodurn) to protect his sensitive eyes. He deliberately dropped his hand to his side and stood blinking against the brightness.

He realized that his compatriots had already gone ahead of him to claim a table… most of them at least. Liseth was still standing next to him, in the same predicament as he was. They shared a look of drow solidarity, then went to join the others. He had acclimated to the light just well enough to get a look at the menu when the server approached the table.

"_Guten tag und wilkommen_ to Liesl’s, may I be taking your order now?" she said in an exaggerated and very obviously fake Zemnian accent.

"Uh, _ja_," Shulid said, and he began ordering in Zemnian, earning a bewildered look from the server. "Oh, I'm sorry, do you not speak the language?"

Beau punched him in the shoulder. "You're such an asshole," she whispered gleefully.

Shulid smirked and ordered in Common.

* * *

"They're all so pretty, I don't know which one to choose!"

Essek smiled indulgently as Pippa stared excitedly at the array of leatherbound journals on display at a bookstore in Shadycreek Run. They were a few lessons in now—they had covered the runic alphabet, which Pippa now knew by heart along with all of the basic formulations. As he had expected, she was a quick learner, astute with a keen and analytical mind. So Essek decided she was ready to acquire a spell book.

He scanned the bookstore periodically to make sure he wasn't attracting any undue attention, but he'd found he didn't have much of a problem with this in Shadycreek Run. Aside from the fact that most people had their own secrets to hide and tended to keep to themselves, it turned out that the Mardun family had some drow ancestry in their bloodline, so if he just acted proud and aristocratic, people would probably assume he was one of them. That was no problem for Essek.

Every once in a while, Pippa asked Essek to retrieve one of the journals from a high shelf so she could examine it more closely, and Essek was happy to oblige. She was soon surrounded with a pile of her favorites, assiduously weighing the pros and cons of each one—the color and design of the cover, the weight of the paper, the quality of the binding.

"This one," she finally said, holding up a dark blue book. "This is the one I like the best."

"Then that is the one we will get," Essek said, picking a few of the others up from the ground and beginning to place them back on the shelf.

"Oh, don't bother with that," Pippa said dismissively. "The shopkeeper will take care of it, that's her job!" And she skipped off to the counter, where said shopkeeper was eyeing the pile of books with a resigned expression.

Essek stacked the books hurriedly on the shelf so at least they wouldn't be on the floor, then joined Pippa at the front of the shop.

"That will be three gold," the shopkeeper said.

Essek began to reach into his robes for his purse, but Pippa held up a hand.

"This is _my_ spell book," she insisted, "and _I'm_ going to pay for it. I've been saving my allowance." She withdrew her own purse and dumped a pile of silver and copper onto the counter. Essek waited, ready to pay the difference if she came up short.

"...one gold one silver... two silver, three, four..."

Essek couldn't help but be reminded of the way Caleb always used to painstakingly count out each coin every time he paid for anything. Then he remembered that Caleb was now on his way here, traveling to the Sanctum. The thought sent a giddy jolt to his stomach and he had to hold back a grin.

"...ninety-eight, ninety-nine, and... three gold!"

"Thank you, will that be all?" the shopkeeper asked, her polite smile perhaps a bit forced.

"Yes, thank you, I will treasure it always!" Pippa said, hugging the book to her chest.

This brought a more genuine smile to the shopkeeper's face. “Well, I’m glad you were able to find what you wanted.”

With that (and one last apologetic glance at the shopkeeper), Essek guided Pippa out onto the busy streets of Shadycreek Run. For the first several minutes, Pippa was occupied with staring at her new spell book, running her fingers over the dyed leather of the cover, but after the third time she almost ran into someone because she wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking, she tucked it carefully under her arm and turned her attention to her surroundings.

"You've been gardening in the Blooming Grove lately," she observed after a few more minutes of walking.

"Yes, Caduceus decided I needed a project."

"Isn't that what you said when you started teaching me?"

Essek laughed. "That is true, but I still had an excess of nervous energy, so he decided I needed another one."

"What's making you so nervous?" Pippa asked.

That was a weighty question. Essek considered it for a moment. "Well, you know my husband passed away some years back?"

"That's Uncle Caleb, right?"

"Yes, that is him."

"That was before I was born, but Mama said she went to the funeral. I'm sorry that's still making you sad."

"Sad isn't quite the word," Essek said. "He was consecuted, so I knew that wasn't the end of it."

"You've talked about that," Pippa said. She squinted for a moment, trying to remember. "Isn't that when you can come back as a baby again after you die?"

"Yes, that's right," Essek affirmed, "and this new person he has become... I have not been able to search for him because I have been living here."

"So you're nervous about that?"

"No, there is a mutual friend of ours who has been looking for him, and now she has found him, and they are on their way here."

Pippa grinned. "Oh, that's wonderful! You must be so excited!"

"I am, but the waiting is the difficult part."

Pippa sobered. "That makes sense. My grandparents came to visit us once, but I had to wait for months before they were here. Mama said I wouldn't talk about anything else the whole time."

"It's exactly like that."

They fell silent for a while after that, as they turned off of Clover street onto a dirt path that led to the edge of the treeline.

At length, Pippa spoke up again. "Don’t be worried, Essek," she said. "The Light will guide him."

Essek stared. He couldn't help himself. That statement was strange coming from Pippa for several reasons.

Pippa blinked and frowned, seeming to recognize the incongruity in herself. "I mean, if this god is as powerful as you say he is, it shouldn't be a problem, right?"

Essek hesitated, then nodded slowly. "I'm sure you're right."

* * *

Reani really needed to pack for the trip. Like, she hadn’t even started yet. Which was why she was desperately seeking something else to occupy herself this afternoon to distract from the guilt she felt because she hadn’t started packing. She wandered into the living room where Liseth, the Eilistraeean priest, was seated in a corner, embroidering a small square of cloth while singing quietly. They were working with green thread at the moment, but the cloth was filled with vivid colors arranged in a swirly pattern.

Reani was curious.

She took a seat next to Liseth, who glanced up briefly, but did not pause their stitching or their song. Reani observed their progress. She did not recognize the language they sang in, but it didn't sound like Undercommon. The melody was lilting and playful, with shifting rhythms, and they seemed to be stitching to the same rhythms they sang.

Reani's curiosity got the better of her.

"What are you making?" she asked.

She wasn't sure Liseth had heard her, because they didn't stop stitching immediately. She was about to ask the question again when they reached the end of a phrase in the song, paused their work, and looked up. "It is a spell cloth," they said. "This particular one is for healing. It will be about equivalent to a minor healing potion."

"Oh my god, that's amazing!" Reani enthused. "Could I buy that from you when you're done? It's so pretty and it would be really useful!"

In response, Liseth reached into the haversack beside their chair, rummaged around for a bit, and pulled out another small cloth embroidered with the same pattern, but this one was completed. Reani could see the parts that were filled in that were still blank on the cloth they were working on. "You may have this one," they said, handing it to her.

Wide-eyed, Reani accepted the spell cloth. "Wow, thank you!" She hesitated. "Are you sure you don't want money for this? It's really valuable. I can pay you, it's really okay!"

"I have no interest in coin," they said.

"What, like you don't use money at all?"

"I do not. It is not the way of my people."

Reani was confused. "But like... what if you need something, like... I don't know, food?"

"In Kyvessslorulm, where I am from, everything is provided," they explained. "The same is true at the temple in Rosohna where I have lived for some years. But if I am traveling and have need to purchase something, I can use these spell cloths for trade. They are made of kyvesss, which is usually of interest to people."

Reani gasped. "Oh my god, I've seen kyvesss clothes in the fancy dress shops! It's always too expensive for me, but it's so soft, I've always wished I had the money for it! They make kyvesss where you're from?"

"Yes, my home is the only place in Exandria where kyvessslorugen are cultivated. The trees were a gift from Eilistraee at the founding of our colony, or so the legend goes," Liseth said. "As for the price of kyvesss clothing, I can only say that is not the fault of my people. The cloth is sought after, which can be a difficulty for us, since we prefer to live in isolation, but we are happy to allow distribution of it for a reasonable trade. But this is the influence of money, is it not? All of this struggle and hardship over small pieces of metal that have no purpose other than to be heavy in your pockets." They made a dismissive noise.

"I... I never thought of it like that, but that's kind of true." Reani's head was buzzing. She loved meeting new people, but somehow, they always ended up making her rethink things she thought she understood.

"Now if you don't mind, I will return to my work," they said, and without waiting for Reani to respond, they began to sing again, and to stitch to the rhythm of their song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always looking for appropriate places to shoehorn in some Iglathiiri lore. I have so much Iglathiiri lore swimming around in my head, you guys. So much.


	10. Leave It Better than it Was Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So actually, most of this chapter is retelling canon content, specifically from ep. 97 because I'm soft. Dialogue in these parts belongs to Liam O'Brien, Matt Mercer, Laura Bailey, Sam Riegel, and Taliesin Jaffe.

The Mighty Nein was attending a party, certainly a more elaborate affair than anything Shulid had ever seen. There were about a hundred or so guests milling about a spacious ballroom, each one dressed to the height of elegance. Several of them were gathered close to a stage where a tiefling woman—Jester’s mother, the Ruby of the Sea—was singing.

Caleb was hanging back a bit from the stage, his attention focused not on the Ruby but on her daughter, who was engaged in conversation with a distinctly nervous blond elven man—who Caleb knew was Essek in an illusory disguise. Essek, who had betrayed them, who had been in league with the Assembly all along.

Caleb’s attention might have been drawn to the two of them even if keeping an eye on Essek weren’t the Nein’s most essential business of the night. They were, after all, easily the two most beautiful people in the room, if not all of Exandria (even in disguise, Essek was still beautiful), though together, they made quite the awkward pair.

It was very like Jester to engage so openly with him, rather than keep a distance and observe. It made Caleb nervous. By appearances, there was no reason why Jester should take such an interest in a mere acquaintance they had met only two days ago—she certainly wasn’t hanging on the arm of any of the others they had met on the Wind of Aeons—and Caleb was certain that Essek would begin to suspect he had been found out. To that end, Caleb was beginning to formulate backup plans in his head. What if Essek left the party? Would they follow him? Would they confront him? Caleb didn’t relish the prospect, but stowed away beneath his sleek suit coat, in the holster that he used to use for his spell book, he had a backup option for exactly this contingency.

Essek’s posture stiffened suddenly, and Caleb tensed where he stood. Something had just happened, Caleb wasn’t sure what. Jester continued chattering amiably for a few moments longer, but soon became aware of something amiss. Alarmed and frantic, she began fussing over him. “Lord Thain? Oh god, are you okay?” she asked loudly, audible to Caleb some twenty feet away. “Is it your stomach? Is it your stomach?”

Presently she seemed to become aware that people were staring. She waved them off, trying to direct attention back to her mother’s performance, then began to pull Essek out of the crowd.

Essek put up no resistance. In fact, he didn’t move at all—he just glided by Jester’s side, stock still… frozen.

_What_ had Jester done?

Caleb followed the both of them out of the room, noticing as he did that Yasha and Caduceus were doing the same. Caleb was the first to reach the two of them in the courtyard. Jester looked panicked, and so did Essek, his eyes shifting frantically, though otherwise seemingly unable to move a muscle.

“What—uhh, wh-what are we doing here?” Caleb asked. “This is not exactly the plan that we talked about. What are we doing?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Jester cried, wringing her hands.

“What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything! I was just talking to him—”

A halfling in a yellow dress interrupted at this point, materializing out of invisibility. Caleb’s memory supplied to Shulid that this was Nott, or Veth, as she was known in her halfling form. “Hi! He can hear us,” she reminded them.

“I know!” Jester said. “It’s just Lord Thain has all the sudden turned—”

“This gentleman has had a seizure of some sort—”

“Should I cast, like, Greater Restoration on him or something?”

“Well, ah, maybe but let’s try some other things first.”

As Jester and Veth bickered over what to do, Essek began to ease out of his frozen state.

Jester noticed this and gasped, clutching Essek by the arm. “Are you okay? Oh my gosh, you had me so worried!”

Essek straightened his clothes and breathed in slowly. “I have to go,” he said.

The others began to make noises of protest, but this was exactly the scenario Caleb had prepared for.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” he said, pulling the Manacles of Stasis out from the holster. Moving swiftly, he caught Essek’s wrists before he could slip away, and fastened the manacles securely around them.

“What are you doing? What are you—?” Essek cut off abruptly as the magic contained within the manacles had its effect on his body. Hopefully this would put him to sleep and they could figure out what to do from there.

But this backup plan failed as well. Essek held on to consciousness and just stared at Caleb, his eyes hard, his jaw clenched tight, and then he disappeared.

It took a moment for Caleb to realize that Essek had simply cast Dimension Door and not a full Teleport, that he had reappeared just on the other side of the gate.

Caduceus was quicker. “Stop,” he said, annoyed.

Essek halted, and Caleb realized that Caduceus wasn’t merely voicing a request, but the word he spoke had the force of a Command spell behind it. Caduceus then walked toward the gate, and Caleb and the others followed.

“It’s fine,” Caduceus reassured the guards at the gate, whose hands were hovering at the hilts of their swords, their expressions confused, but alert, “we just have to finish a conversation.”

“Sorry, our friend’s had too much to drink,” Caleb added for good measure.

They approached Essek, who had the look of a cornered animal at this point.

“You really do want to talk to us,” Caduceus said in his calm, reassuring way. “I think it’s very important. You do.”

“A lot at stake here,” Caleb said, holding Essek’s gaze. There was no pretense left. Essek must know by now that they knew.

There was fear in Essek’s eyes, and pain, and guilt. There was a resistance, slowly dissolving over the moments of silence that passed.

“Fine then,” he said at last, “show me where.”

* * *

"What's on your mind?"

Yasha had spoken so quietly, Shulid wasn't sure at first that he'd heard it, but when he looked in her direction, she was staring back at him, expectant. Her violet eye was shrouded in shadow, but her blue eye glinted in the moonlight. The effect was striking.

"Why do you ask?" Shulid evaded. The fact was he had been slacking on his duty keeping watch, slipping into a memory. This particular memory had given him much to think about.

Yasha shrugged. "I just miss talking to you. It's been a while."

Her words brought to mind other nights, other shifts taking watch, Yasha's quiet voice, her kind, haunted eyes. Immediately he knew from a lifetime of forgotten experience that Yasha would understand.

"Essek betrayed us," he said.

Yasha drew in a breath and nodded. "He did."

"And I married him."

"That's true."

"I... I'm still figuring that one out."

Yasha stared back out at the surrounding forest, chewing her lip in thought. "I think we both have some experience with betrayal and forgiveness, but it does feel different when you're the one who has been betrayed."

An owl called in the distance. Another one answered nearer by.

"Did you forgive him?" Shulid asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Yasha grew silent again. This seemed to be her way. Shulid could almost hear her gathering her thoughts as the moments stretched on. "I saw the effect that you had on him," she said at last. "I think you made him want to be better."

Shulid breathed out a laugh. "Well, that is not very helpful to me right now."

Yasha smiled in return. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more useful."

It was good to see her smile. In the memories he had of her thus far, she was always sad and closed-off, but she seemed happier now. "I'm just glad you're here," he said honestly.

"Me too."

* * *

“Yasha, please guard the door.”

Caleb’s voice was tense, as was his body and every emotion he guarded within his heart. In front of him, the man who had been introduced to them as Dezran Thain disappeared to be replaced by their… their _friend_, Essek Thelyss. Essek kept his eyes trained on the ground. He looked desolate and defeated. There was a part of Caleb that ached for him, but he could not allow that part of him any influence over his actions. He needed to hear Essek explain himself. Everything depended on that explanation.

“Oh my gosh, it’s Essek? What?” Jester said in exaggerated tones. She seemed to be trying to inject some humor into the situation, and Caleb wished this were the sort of situation where that approach could do any good. He saw the corner of Essek’s mouth twitch, somewhere between a smile and a grimace. Jester sobered. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Yes, _friend_, what are you doing?” Caleb used the word like a weapon and saw it hit its mark, as it drew another grimace from Essek. It seemed at least he wasn’t beyond shame.

Essek did not look up from the ground. At length he drew in a breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, “you all weren’t part of the plan.”

Caleb could see that Essek was reluctant to go into the details of what this plan was, and this would not do. They needed the truth. “Well, you know we have a limited amount of time,” Caleb said, choosing his words very carefully, “and I would love for you to see the sunrise, so if there is a reasonable explanation, we would love to hear it.”

Essek looked up at him briefly then, his eyes questioning. Caleb did not allow himself to relent. _Yes, I would kill you if it came to that. I would hate myself for it, but I am no stranger to self-hatred._

Essek sighed and looked down again. “It’s complicated to express.”

“We figured that much,” Jester said. “Do you want to sit down?”

“For this, yes.”

“We have all night,” Caleb said.

Essek looked up at him and smiled ruefully. “It may take as much.”

With that, he summoned a crate to sit on. Caleb, for his part, remained standing, and retreated toward the wall of the cabin. He knew he was in no fit emotional state to take an active role in the interrogation that was to follow, and to his relief, Jester and Caduceus seemed content to take the lead. It did take some goading to get the truth out of him, and when it did come out, it was about what Caleb had suspected: that Essek was the mole that Dairon had warned them about, the one inside the Dynasty’s government who had given the beacons away to the Assembly. He had suspected this, but still, hearing Essek’s confirmation made Caleb’s heart sink.

He hated to admit, even to himself, how attached he’d grown to this man, even entertaining ideas of—well, perhaps harboring feelings for Jester for so long had made him soft, had opened his heart wide enough to allow him to be hurt again. And it did hurt. It hurt like the nine hells.

“What I didn’t account for was… liking you all.”

Here, Essek’s words caught Caleb’s attention, not least because his eyes flickered up to Caleb as he spoke them, a little flash of yellow that struck lightening in Caleb’s stomach before he cast his gaze back down to the floor. He spoke of the pain of the regret he felt, having betrayed them, but also feeling that this pain was what he deserved, and Caleb felt the truth of that because it was his own truth too.

And then they came to the reason why Essek had given away the beacons, and Caleb should have seen it from the beginning: it was for knowledge, for understanding the mysteries and secrets of Dunamancy. Of course. Essek was not some different person now that they knew what he had done—he had told them, he had _told_ them of his hopes and ambitions, of what he would do anything to achieve. And this was what he had done to achieve it. And wasn’t that also what Caleb had done? Trusted the Assembly to provide him aid in his quest for knowledge?

The similarities were too striking to ignore. For himself, Caleb was fighting like hell to climb out of the pit he’d dug himself into so long ago, and who would he be if, seeing someone else in the same pit, he didn’t offer a hand up? He had to speak, he _had_ to. He walked forward and knelt in front of Essek, who looked up at him briefly, startled, before training his eyes on the floor to Caleb’s left. Caleb reached out to turn his head to face him.

“You listen to me,” Caleb insisted.

Essek was still trying to avert his gaze, his jaw clenched tight, tears gathering in his eyes.

“I know what you are talking about,” Caleb continued. “I know. And the difference between you and I is thinner than a razor. I know what it means to have other people complicate your desires and wishes. And I was like you—_was_. I know what a fool I have been, for years, and I’m looking at him as if I am looking in a mirror. You didn’t account for us—good. That is life. Shit hits you sideways in life and no one is prepared, no one is ready.” Essek was looking at him now. Still resistant, still skeptical, but he was listening, and maybe, just maybe, that could be enough. “These people changed me. These people can change you. You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it, _you learned it_. You have a rare opportunity here, Thelyss—one chance to save yourself—and we are offering it, and I am pleading with you to find your better self. He is still there.”

Essek opened his mouth to protest, and Caleb allowed him the space to respond. “There is no path to redemption for me,” Essek said. “If what has been done comes to light, if what you are seemingly looking to correct is known, then I am a dead man.”

Here again, Caleb could not but see himself mirrored back in Essek. How long had he lived in the certainty that he was living on borrowed time? That someone from the Assembly, or Astrid, or Eodwulf, or another of the Volstrucker would find him, and no sooner find him than kill him? It wasn’t so long ago that he had come face to face with all of them again, and how was it that he was still here, breathing, _living?_ He could not say. He was still half-convinced it was some sort of fluke.

But he had this second chance, this second life, a pearl to the forehead and a flowering of dunamantic energy. He wanted more than anything for Essek to have that too, so he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Essek’s forehead, right where he would place the pearl if he were casting Fortune’s Favor.

“Maybe you and I are both damned, but we can choose to do something, and leave it better than it was before.”

The tears that had been shining in Essek’s eyes broke loose, running down his cheeks, and over Caleb’s hands. “You weren’t part of the plan,” he said, “and now you’re all in terrible danger for the things that you know.”

Caleb nodded. “So be it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The forehead kiss. I will never be over it. 😭😭😭


	11. the Birth of the Gemwood Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this chapter didn't take very long, so you can have a quick update, as a treat ^_^
> 
> We're coming close to the end of what I'm thinking of as "Arc I" of the story. Probably three more chapters after this. I've got lots of ideas for how Arc II is gonna go, but there are still a lot of details I need to work out, so things might slow down again once I get to that point. But I'll keep plugging away at it! I mean, really, what else is there to do with my time?

The others said this forest used to be cursed, and Liseth could see little remnants of it as they traveled along. Many of the trees here looked gnarled and weathered, almost ossified, up to a point, but then on each tree there was an abrupt shift to newer, younger growth. One tree they saw was twisted and bent over, its spray of branches nearly touching the ground, but a new branch shot up from its curved side, its leafy canopy spreading overhead.

They had gotten into the habit of traveling some distance away from the others. The group’s conversation could be interesting to listen to, but it usually didn't take long for Liseth to tire of the company. In the temple, they spent most of their time in solitude, with the echoing songs of Eilistraee as their companion. So now they wandered through this temple of nature, humming to themself, though they didn't know any songs of Melora.

Up ahead, the others had halted and gathered in conversation. Observing the angle of the sunlight through the trees, Liseth realized that it was indeed drawing late in the day, and it was about time to consider where to set up camp. They approached the group.

"...camp by the Gemwood Tree," came the tail end of Reani's suggestion. "It's not far from here, maybe another hour?"

"What is the Gemwood Tree?" Liseth asked.

"Oh my gosh, wait til you see it!" Reani gushed. "It's so beautiful, isn't it muffin?"

"Yes, it's very pretty," Yasha agreed.

"It used to be the very heart of the curse in this forest," Reani said with a dramatic air, "but we broke the curse by making it grow again with those weird crystals Caduceus's family had... aaand a little bit of my magic to help it along..." She waved a casual hand and a flower grew to life between her fingers, which she presented to Yasha with a flourish. "For you, my sweet cherry blossom."

Yasha accepted the flower with a flushed smile and tucked it behind her ear.

"And it is called the Gemwood Tree because...?" Liseth asked.

"Oh, because the crystals sort of formed this film around the bark. That happened with the trees in the Blooming Grove too, but this tree is black, like _pitch_ black, so you can really see the crystal—it's so sparkly!"

This did seem like it must be quite the sight to behold, and the others seemed happy to continue on for another hour or so to get to this tree, so Liseth again allowed them to go on ahead again while they followed some distance behind.

It took a bit more than an hour to get there in the end. Shulid muttered that it had in fact been an hour and twenty three minutes, but it was still not quite sunset in these lengthening days of late spring, so there was no harm done.

The tree was indeed as beautiful as they might have imagined, tall and jagged and imposing, its smooth obsidian bark shimmering and luminescent in the slanting light. The sheen of it looked green from one angle, purple if you shifted your head a bit. It was really quite a curious effect. The leaves that spread over them didn't glitter in the same way, but they were a vibrant, jewel tone green that seemed almost too concentrated in hue to be natural.

There was a soft chuckle beside them, and Liseth looked to find Thila regarding the tree with a sort of bemused awe.

"Sometimes you think you've reached the limit of how much one very strange group of people can surprise you," she said, "but it seems I haven't found the end of it yet." And she walked off with a shake of her head to begin preparing their meal.

Liseth turned back to the tree. There was something about it… like the kyvessslorugen back home, it seemed to emanate a divine presence. They reached out a hand to touch the bark—smooth like panes of glass, but somehow alive, breathing. The presence here wasn’t of _their_ goddess, but they felt a kinship to it all the same. They sang a simple prayer to honor it, the one that had been on their lips for as long as they’d had a voice to sing:

_May she bless this place,_   
_This time, _   
_This small eternity._

* * *

It almost didn't look like a tree. It seemed to Caleb more like a window into an interdimensional void in the shape of a tree, leafless, barren, and stark, standing tall in the middle of a small clearing in the Savolirwood.

Reani was sitting crosslegged at its base, her fingers digging into the soil at its roots, her eyes closed, her halo glowing brighter with the force of her concentration. On the other side of the tree, Caduceus had just finished digging a hole that snaked into the midst of the underground root system. He motioned to Clarabelle, who stepped forward with the crystal. He took it and reached with his long arm to place it at the very end of the hole, then filled it back up with soil.

Dusting off his hands, he settled down facing the tree. He placed both hands over his holy symbol and kept his eyes fixed on that tree, waiting, waiting, and praying.

Caleb sat with the rest of the group several feet away. There was really nothing for them to do at this point but keep watch, make sure nothing disturbed this fragile process. From what Clarabelle had told them, this would take hours, perhaps the whole day. At least, that was how long it had taken with the trees in the Blooming Grove.

So they waited and watched. An hour passed. Two. Three.

"You really don't need to remind us every hour that it's been an hour," Veth complained. "Time is passing. We get it."

Caleb shrugged. "I find it helpful."

"Well I don't. Shut up."

"Okay."

They ate lunch and continued to watch. Something was beginning to happen at the roots. They were beginning to glisten. The sun shining down through the leafless branches caught the roots in an opalescent purple shimmer... no, it was green... it shifted.

"That's what happened back at home," Clarabelle said. She grinned at them. "I think it's working!"

The hours passed, and slowly, inch by painstaking inch, the shimmering resin crept up the roots and the trunk of the tree.

Yasha became restless and began to pace around the perimeter of the clearing, looking back at intervals at the tree and the people who were midwifing it to rebirth. There was a sort of guarded softness in her eyes. Eventually, she stopped, leaning against another tree at the edge of the clearing. She reached into her haversack and retrieved the book in which she stored all of her dried flowers, and occupied herself flipping through its pages, running gentle fingers over each specimen in her collection.

Caleb approached her.

"That one is a crocus," he said.

Yasha hummed in recognition. "It's beautiful."

Several moments passed before Caleb broke the silence again. "Do you love her?"

Yasha looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Who?"

"I don't have to say who."

The parallel to an earlier conversation clearly wasn't lost on Yasha. She smiled sadly and shook her head. "I can't let myself forget Zuala."

Caleb nodded. "I understand. But I don't think you need to be afraid. Nobody ever forgets their first love. I certainly haven't.”

Yasha shrugged noncommittally.

“You _are_ allowed to live again," he insisted.

Yasha regarded him thoughtfully. "So are you, you know."

"I know," Caleb said. But he also knew it was easier said than done, which he supposed was true for Yasha as well. He gave her arm an affectionate squeeze and returned to the group.

The light was beginning to grow dim. They ate dinner, still watching all the while as the crystalline encasement crept out onto each branch and finally, finally reached the tips, which began to bud, then burst into delicate pink flowers.

Jester gasped and grabbed Beauregard's hand. "Oh my god! Look, look!"

"Yeah, it's—it's beautiful," Beau agreed. She was still looking at Jester.

Caleb thought perhaps that the work was now done, but still, Caduceus and Reani did not shift their attention away from the tree. One of the blooms fell to the ground, then another, and another, until the two of them were showered with them, and surrounded by a snowy pink blanket of flowers. Up among the branches, leaves began to sprout of a vibrant, dazzling pale green that darkened slowly to maturity.

Yasha ventured out to the edge of the blanket of flowers and picked up one delicate bloom with careful fingers. Her gaze rested thoughtfully on Reani for a long moment, then she retreated, opened her book to a page near the end, and pressed the flower into it.

* * *

Beau woke up in the middle of the night with a _very_ full bladder. Still half asleep, she stood, tiptoed around the others (nodding vaguely at Dairon who was keeping watch), and found a suitable spot not too far away to unlace her trousers, crouch down, and let it all out. She sighed with relief as the pressure in her lower abdomen slowly ebbed away.

There was a low humming sound coming from somewhere nearby, and Beau became a little more alert. It wouldn’t be great if some dangerous beast caught her with her pants down. But it wasn’t an animal, it was Liseth singing. Beau smiled as she stood and laced herself back up. The sound of Liseth’s voice had become a comfortable companion on the journey, just on the edge of earshot as they wandered a short distance behind the rest of the party.

Beau crept a little closer to the sound and caught sight of a long wisp of white hair, loose and flowing in the moonlight, which was a bit strange, because Liseth always kept their hair braided. Peering around a tree trunk, Beau saw the priest spinning around on their toe, one leg extended gracefully behind them. They were… dancing.

They were completely naked.

The moonlight caught their form, dark and curved and beautiful, and Beau was reminded of their goddess’s symbol, the dancing woman in the moonlight. This must be some kind of a religious thing.

Beau swallowed and stepped back. She shouldn’t have seen this, and she _definitely_ shouldn’t have enjoyed the sight of it as much as she did. She crept back to the dome as quietly as possible and didn’t let out her breath until she was back in her sleeping spot next to Shulid, who was still sitting upright, his eyes unfocused and far away. Beau knew he was reliving memories of Caleb’s life as he tranced.

She closed her eyes, but it took her a long time to fall back to sleep.


	12. The Revealing of Uncomfortable Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upping the rating because of a passing memory that gets a bit heated... though I'm not sure this fic will really live up to such a rating. I'm not really a smut writer.

Reani cooked up a stew for dinner. The day's travel had made them all very hungry, so for a long while they ate in silence as the leftovers simmered merrily in a pot over the waning fire. Soon, they’d all had second (in some cases, third) helpings, and the hungry silence turned sated. Yasha had already fallen asleep on Reani's shoulder, and Liseth, having finished their dinner, was off by themself in the nearby forest somewhere. Beauregard leaned back on her hands and gave a loud belch.

Reani giggled. "Thanks for the compliment!"

"Man that was good," Beau said. "Takes me right back to eating Caduceus's cooking."

"Well it should, it's a Clay family recipe."

“Ha! That explains it!”

The comfortable silence took over once more, but Shulid soon became aware of a conversation of glances being exchanged between Beau and Dairon. Dairon, it seemed, wanted Beau to do something that Beau was hesitant to undertake, but finally, with a roll of her eyes, she relented.

“So, uhhh, Thila,” she said in falsely casual tones. “Can I call you Thila, or am I supposed to call you Skysybil or something?”

Thila cocked an eyebrow at Beau’s sudden interest. “Thila is fine,” she said.

"Why did you decide to come with us to find Essek?" Beau asked. “I just feel like you haven’t really, uh… made that clear.”

Thila shrugged. "This seemed to be the best course of action of the options available to me, though Essek isn't necessarily who I would choose as an ally."

"Why not?"

Thila took a bite of stew and chewed very slowly, seeming to consider and toss out several possible answers before she finally spoke. "I will only say that politics is a balancing act, and Essek tended to make that balance difficult."

Beau smirked, and Shulid felt something tugging at his mind.

"Difficult, how?" Dairon asked.

The tugging got more persistent. There was a memory that wanted his attention.

"In ways that have nothing to do with you," Thila rejoined.

Shulid looked around. Nobody seemed in any hurry to move or clean up. It wouldn't be a bad time to slip into a memory, really...

"If I may ask," Dairon pushed, "who _would_ you choose as an ally, if not Essek?"

"You may ask,” Thila said, her voice growing more distant, “but I don't have to answer."

The campfire and the people around it were fading. He was in a familiar room, sitting on the edge of a familiar bed.

“_This_ is the problem with working with people who are hundreds or thousands of years old,” Essek complained, floating back and forth in front of Caleb. The float-pacing was a nervous habit Caleb was very familiar with. “They are simply unwilling to consider new ideas that could actually change things in the Dynasty for the better. They’re stuck in the past, every one of them.”

He stopped pacing and fixed Caleb with an impassioned pale yellow stare. Caleb’s stomach fluttered. “We have an opportunity _now_, Caleb,” he said. “All of Wildemount is changing. The success of the Marrow Valley rebellion has other territories following suit, and if we are smart and we make the right alliances, we can open the Kryn Dynasty up to the rest of the world, and show them who we really are. We don’t have to live in complete isolation for all of eternity—_but we must do something now_.”

Caleb reached out his hand and Essek glided forward to take it. “I like this vision of yours,” he said, “and I like seeing how much you care about it.”

“Oh?” Essek said with a smile and a raised eyebrow. “Do you find it attractive?” He leaned forward to offer Caleb the opportunity to respond without words.

Caleb took the opportunity.

Shulid now found himself in the strange position of feeling the former Shadowhand’s lips pressed against his own, and—oh. of tasting his tongue. Essek (_Essek Thelyss, the former Shadowhand_) settled himself astride Caleb’s lap, and Shulid could feel the contours of his body through Caleb’s wandering hands. There was a hardness beginning to press against Caleb’s stomach that Shulid was definitely not ready to think about. There must a way of pulling oneself out of these memories—

—and no sooner did the thought come to his mind than he found himself back in front of the campfire, an empty bowl in his hands. Beau and Reani were merrily reminiscing about the old days, while Dairon was fixing Thila with a thoughtful, perhaps a bit suspicious gaze that Thila was pointedly ignoring. A few minutes later, Thila suggested it was time to pack up and prepare for bed. Reani gently roused her sleeping wife, who blearily began helping everyone pack up for the night.

* * *

Caduceus was a man of faith. It was perhaps his most defining quality—his faith in the Wild Mother, in other people, in the universe itself. So why was it that he was having trouble believing that Caleb was truly alive again?

Well the answer to that was pretty obvious, actually. His faith practice was focused on death as a natural end to life, as a good and necessary thing, as painfully final as it was. He grew up witnessing his parents on countless occasions helping people through the process of coping with that finality, and when it was his time, he took on that responsibility as well.

In his travels away from home with the Mighty Nein, he'd encountered many things that made no sense to him. Living with his confusion became second nature. But nothing in those experiences was quite so baffling as encountering the Kryn and their practice of consecution. People returning to life after death? A true death that brought them beyond the reach of a revivify spell? That didn't happen. That went against everything he knew, everything he believed in. And yet, he'd met people who seemed to recall previous lives, and they didn't seem to be lying about it.

Eventually, he had allowed this conundrum to remain unsolved, to rest with the myriad other things he didn't, and never would understand. When Caleb participated in this strange ritual of consecution, it was just one of those things people did that didn't make sense, but it was what Caleb wanted, so that was all right. And then some time later, Caleb died. Caduceus himself presided over the funeral. In his eulogy, he left out some of the things he usually said about the finality of death, but otherwise, the process, the ritual, it was all familiar; and letting go of a dear friend, thinking his departure to be irrevocable, it was second nature. It was just how Caduceus reacted to death. You accept it. You move on.

When Essek came to live at the Sanctum, he sometimes mentioned Caleb, not always specifically in terms of consecution, but always in a way that suggested that his absence was only temporary, and Caduceus supposed that must be true, in the way he'd accepted that consecution in general must be real, in the way he accepted most things that didn't make sense, but had little to do with him. But Caleb had a lot to do with him. Caleb was his friend. Caleb had died. That was usually the end of it, but now it wasn't.

Caduceus had spoken by proxy of the Wild Mother to the Luxon on Essek's behalf, and in that capacity, he'd received confirmation that Caleb was indeed alive again. Even that didn't quite seem real. The Luxon had said Caleb was alive, which didn't make sense, but it made sense to Caduceus that gods often said things that didn't make sense, if that made sense.

But now, Essek was saying they could expect Caleb to arrive at any moment, and he seemed so sure of it. He was in frequent communication with Beau, who was with Caleb. Apparently Yasha and Reani had joined them. That was a lot of people who knew for a fact that Caleb was alive again, so Caduceus felt like he _should_ be able to accept that this was real. _Why_ couldn't he accept that this was real?

Not so long ago, Essek had commented that he would never have as much faith as Caduceus did, and yet Essek didn't seem to have any trouble believing something that was completely eluding Caduceus. Perhaps he just needed to actually see Caleb face to face. Caduceus wasn't generally someone who needed physical evidence in order to believe something. It felt strange to need to have proof presented before his eyes. It was an attitude he often found frustrating when he encountered it in others, but here he was.

Caduceus looked down at the table in front of him, where a cup of tea he'd made over an hour ago had gone cold. He sighed. If he were to see another Sanctum resident acting like this, he'd say they needed a project. Maybe he needed a project. He stood, poured his tea into the soil of a nearby potted plant, washed and put away his cup, and opened his cottage door to the dim, sleepy evening light.

Perhaps he could find someone to talk to.

* * *

At this point in the journey, everyone had realized it was best to leave the watch-taking to the elves of the party, though some of the others sometimes stayed up as well, if they had trouble sleeping, or just wanted some company. Tonight, as Shulid took his watch, Thila was up with him.

He wasn't sure if he'd been hoping for this or dreading it.

There were two things he wished to discuss with her, neither one particularly pleasant, though whether they got around to discussing the second of these very much depended on what she had to say for herself on the first.

Despite his anxiety, Shulid had always preferred to get things out in the open rather than let them fester, so he took a breath and began.

"I've been doing the math in my head, and it doesn't add up."

He glanced up at Thila and her face, as he'd expected, was impassive. "How so?" she asked.

"The Skysybil passed in 847. I didn't remember at first, because it happened some years before I was born, in this life at least. But Caleb remembered."

"You do tend to remember everything," Thila agreed.

"But you are twenty-six years old now, aren't you?" Shulid continued. "In this life, I mean. You’re six years older than I am."

"Yes, that is true as well."

"It doesn't take a consecuted soul that passed in Rosohna twelve years to find a new incarnation." Shulid said, then paused. The implication was clear from what he already said, but he felt he needed to say it outright. It was just... quite a thing to say. "So I have to wonder, Thila, why you're pretending to be the Skysybil."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama! Intrigue! Suspense!
> 
> Since there have been some rumblings from CR people about them starting up the game again... soon? hopefully?, I thought I'd try to finish up this first arc of the story. Arc II ideas are slowly winding their way through my brain waves. Today I've been on a kick of making up bunches of Kryn Dynasty history. It's probably not gonna align with Matt's version, but I think I've reached the point where I'm ok with this story going AU.
> 
> Anyway, hope you're all well! Stay safe out there! Wear a mask! Black trans lives matter!


	13. Approaching the Journey's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol so much for finishing the arc before CR came back! But they're back, you guys! So much fun seeing them all again :)

Thila did not look angry or ashamed, she just looked... at Shulid, with that piercing gaze that had him wondering if he'd gotten it all wrong after all. Finally her gaze fell and she sighed.

"I was hoping to put off this discussion until after we reached our destination," she admitted. "But first, to answer your question, I am not pretending. I _am_ Skysybil Abrianna Mirimm. I am aware of the timeline and what it looks like, but the fact is, I don't know for certain why my soul took so long to reincarnate. I have _theories_, but there is simply no way for me to prove them one way or the other. Not that I haven't been trying."

Shulid blinked. "Your area of study at the Conservatory..."

"The central vortex of the beacon's internal plane."

"Where it is thought that consecuted souls live between incarnations," Shulid said, practically quoting from his Dunamantic Theory text.

"But as yet, that is still only a theory," Thila said. "Nobody has been able to find a way inside."

_Almost nobody_, a voice inside Shulid's head amended. Shulid froze. That was Caleb's voice, but Shulid had no context. Was he to believe that Caleb...? or perhaps Essek? But how? When? Shulid wanted nothing more than to follow this thread, but he was still in the middle of a conversation. He wrenched himself back to the present, where Thila was raising a quizzical eyebrow at him.

"I uh..." he said. He cast his memory back to the conversation thus far. "You said you had theories. About why your reincarnation was delayed."

"I do," she said, "but I'm not going to tell you what they are. Not just yet."

"That's fair."

Thila steepled her fingers. "So what is your verdict then?" she asked. "Do you still think me an impersonator?"

Shulid considered this. "I am... mostly persuaded that you are telling the truth," he said, "but I did not know the Skysybil very well. Perhaps Essek will be able to judge with more certainty."

Thila gave a wry smile. "Then my fate is in the hands of Essek Thelyss. How poetic."

Neither of them spoke again for a while. Shulid remembered that he was thinking of speaking with Thila on a second issue, and while he was still a bit unsure about her, it did occur to him that speaking on this subject could still help him get closer to a conclusion, one way or another. He decided to bring it up.

"You are married, correct?"

Thila looked up. "I am," she confirmed.

"What is it like, meeting your spouse again, after you've come back?"

"It's... strange," she said. "It's wonderful and terrifying all at once. Particularly if you're not very far into anamnesis, you're essentially meeting a complete stranger, but the connection, the sense of rightness together, that is there as well. At least it always has been for me."

Shulid nodded. He could feel some of that as well. Though he had yet to meet Essek, his presence in Shulid’s memories was beginning to feel natural, as if he belonged there. But the prospect of meeting him in person, in the flesh, as it were… Shulid had some worries about that. "I imagine that there are..." he hesitated, "some ethical considerations for... reestablishing intimacy when a spouse is reincarnated?" He felt his face heat up and he stared pointedly at the ground.

"Of course," Thila said emphatically. "Such things are not even thought of until anamnesis is complete. Bear in mind, most people undergoing anamnesis are a few years younger than you are, so this is an important boundary to honor."

Shulid let out a breath he had been holding in. "That is... comforting to know."

"Shulid," Thila said in a tone that demanded his full attention. "don’t take the responsibility for this upon yourself. Essek is the one who is responsible for setting and keeping these boundaries, not you. So if he does anything that makes you uncomfortable, you must tell me."

Shulid took a moment to really look at her then. She seemed honestly concerned, in the same way Thila had always been toward him. Whatever the truth was about her consecution and identity, in the end, Shulid could not think of Thila herself as an untrustworthy person.

"I will," he said at last.

Thila nodded. "Good."

* * *

As Caleb finished casting the dome, he felt himself swaying on his feet, but then he was steadied by a familiar large firbolg hand.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Caduceus said with a warm, if concerned smile. Caleb could feel Caduceus’s healing spell already at work on the wounds he’d sustained. “You’ve done more than enough.”

Caleb knew better than to argue, and obediently took his seat on the ground.

"Alright, who else needs healing?" Caduceus asked to the group at large.

"Yes, please," Jester's feeble voice came from somewhere near the ground. There were several other murmurs of assent.

They all began to settle in. Yasha was beginning to mend her breastplate. Beau sat with Jester's head in her lap, smoothing back her hair as Jester breathed through the pain of a deep gash on her side that had only partially healed from the hastily administered spells and potions during the battle. Her pink haversack was on the ground beside them, and inside that, Caleb knew, was the beacon they had just managed to recover from the Assembly.

Essek was sitting quietly at the edge of the dome, hands folded in his lap, eyes fixed on Jester's haversack. Caleb thought he had an idea what was on his mind. Hauling himself to his feet again, Caleb went over to Essek.

"You are well?" Caleb asked. "You are not injured?"

Essek looked up at him and offered a brief flicker of a smile. "I am fine."

Caleb wasn't entirely convinced, judging by the long tear down the front of Essek's robes. Essek caught the direction of Caleb's gaze and waved a dismissive hand.

"This is from earlier in the battle. Jester healed me. I managed to stay out of trouble after that."

Caleb nodded and sat next to Essek. "I am told it was you who dealt the final blow."

"Yes," Essek said, "he is dead now. But I can't help feeling that I stole the honor from you."

Caleb considered this. "I am not sure it would have made me feel any better. As many times as I have imagined taking my revenge, it never gave me any satisfaction."

"You are a better man than I am, Caleb. I cannot pretend I felt no pleasure in watching him fall." Essek looked up at Caleb then, and there was something heated in his gaze that made Caleb's stomach turn. "At any rate..." He looked down again. "I suppose the more pressing matter now is the, ah, _item_ in Jester's satchel over there."

"That is true," Caleb agreed. "What do you suggest, then? Shall we hand it over to your Queen?"

Essek looked up to see if Caleb was serious, which of course he wasn't. "I think you know what my opinion is on that."

"Then what should become of it?"

Essek thought for a moment. "I think it should be taken somewhere far away from here. If possible, I'd like to see an entire ocean between it and the Dynasty _and_ the Assembly."

"Hey what about that lady who helped us in the Happy Fun Ball?" Jester asked. She was still lying down, head in Beau's lap, eyes closed, and speaking with a feeble voice. "Isn't she from Tal'Dorei?"

"I did not realize you were listening, Jester," Essek said, a note of teasing in his voice.

"You said my name, ‘course I'm listening." She tried to lift her head to look up at them, but grimaced and fell back.

"Hey, hey, you just rest for now, ok?" Beau soothed, pushing Jester gently back down.

"What was her name, though? Alyssa? Andrea?"

"Allura Vysoren," Caleb supplied.

"Ah yes, I remember her," Essek said. He smiled, and Caleb imagined he was probably remembering Allura barging into the Lucid Bastion, demanding they halt the attack on Rexxentrum. "She seems like a suitably neutral party, and Tal'Dorei is very far away."

"So you are happy to hand it over to her?" Caleb asked. That seemed uncharacteristic.

"Not exactly," Essek said. "I would remain with it myself. This is the opportunity I've been waiting for, is it not?" He grinned.

Caleb smiled back, but something felt... off about that too. Of course, Essek had continued to be helpful to the Nein, and they had continued, with some reservations, to consider him a friend. They had even welcomed him as part of the group when he began to fear he could no longer remain safely in the Dynasty. But the matter of trust… that was a bit slippery. Essek would do anything for knowledge, and the particular knowledge he was seeking was right in front of him, within his grasp. Should he be trusted with it? Should someone else be with him, perhaps? But if, as a small voice in the back of his mind was already suggesting, Caleb himself were to be that person, was he to be any more trusted than Essek? He did, after all, find the same appeal in exploring the same unknown depths…

"I can message her," Jester offered, interrupting Caleb’s musings. "Not tonight but I can do it tomorrow."

"That sounds like a good start," Fjord agreed, because apparently this was a party-wide conversation now. "We can do that in the morning and go from there? For now, though, I'm ready to call it a night."

There was a general murmur of assent, and they all set about arranging themselves for a night's rest.

* * *

Beau opened her eyes at the end of her morning meditation. She smiled at the first beams of sunlight that set the morning mists aglow. She felt centered, focused, and energized. Of course Dairon was right to force her to make a habit of this again. And speaking of Dairon...

Her fellow monk was just beginning to stir from their own meditation beside her.

"So," she said, "have you reached a verdict? Is Thila going to betray us all?"

Dairon sighed. "I don't think so," they said. "Of course, she's being evasive and hiding a lot, but then, she would have a lot to hide, wouldn't she? I think I am just on edge because there wasn't a chance to question her thoroughly back in Rosohna. But keep an eye on her. We don't know her as well as the others."

"We don't know Liseth very well either."

"Yes, keep an eye on them too."

"Sure thing," Beau said, then stood to begin her stretches.

As she continued her workout, the others began to wake up and prepare for breakfast. The atmosphere was cheerful as they expected this to be the last day of the journey. Setting a decent pace, they should arrive by mid-afternoon. Dairon made a spiced porridge, and Reani offered up some berries she'd gathered the day before. ("I promise they're not poisonous, and they're super yummy!") They were delicious, with a dark, syrupy flavor that went perfectly with Dairon's spices.

"You should try these berries," Beau said, offering the bowl to Shulid, who was pushing his porridge disinterestedly around his bowl. He looked up, grabbed a few berries and popped them into his mouth.

"They're good," he said, then he looked back down at his porridge.

Beau frowned. "You okay, dude?"

"I'm okay," he said unconvincingly. "There is... a lot on my mind."

"I can imagine," Beau said. Remembering a whole life in a matter of days had to be... a lot. Still though, she wished she could do something for her friend.

She had an idea. She grinned.

"I know what you need."

"What do I need?"

"You need your cat. Can you still summon him?"

Shulid thought for a moment, then he lifted a hand and experimentally snapped his fingers. A large ginger cat suddenly appeared before him.

"Ohmigod it's Frumpkiiinnn!" Reani cooed.

"It's nice to see him again," Yasha said with a smile.

"This is your familiar?" Thila asked.

"Yes," Shulid said, "this is... this is Frumpkin."

Frumpkin butted his head against Shulid's leg, purring loudly, and Shulid scritched behind his ears, then lifted him into his lap. He smiled softly as he stroked his cat's fur. And yeah, Beau was kind of a cranky old lady, but even she had to admit the sight of it warmed her heart.

"Thank you, Beauregard," Shulid said. "You were right, this was exactly what I needed."

They all took their time finishing up with breakfast. They talked about people they were excited to see once they reached the Sanctum while Frumpkin went around accepting coos and pets from everyone. Finally, they packed up camp for the last time and set off on their way. Beau stayed near Shulid, who was walking a little bit apart from the group. Perhaps most people would’ve left the poor man to his thoughts, but Beau had a good sense for when Caleb in particular needed to talk things out, and she thought she could recognize the same cues in Shulid now.

"So what's on your mind?" she asked.

Shulid looked around, seeming to take stock of who was walking nearby. He shrugged. "There's a lot on my mind."

Beau took the hint. Whatever specific thing was on his mind was something he didn't want overheard by just anyone. She picked up her pace a bit, and Shulid followed suit. Soon enough they were far enough ahead that a quiet conversation wouldn't be overheard, though they were still within shouting distance if they were needed.

"So what's _really_ on your mind?"

Shulid took one more glance at the surroundings and nodded. "It was just one of my memories. The subject matter, the timing of it... it only makes sense if there was another beacon, one the Dynasty doesn't know about. Unless I'm misunderstanding something?"

"No, no, you're right," Beau said. "It was found in an archaeological dig at Pride's Call."

"Pride's Call?"

"It's in the Empire," Beau said, then she remembered—"no, actually, it's not in the Empire anymore, but it was at the time. And that's how the Assembly got their hands on it. It was basically the reason why they were so willing to give up the one they had in order to end the war."

"And then we took it from them."

"Yeah, and we killed Trent Ikithon to get it." Beau remembered that part with grim satisfaction.

"And... there was talk, in my memory, we discussed... taking it to Tal'Dorei?"

"Yeah, that—" she paused, "that was kind of the end of the Mighty Nein right there. We left you and Essek in Emon so you could study the beacon and fall in love and shit, and then Caduceus went back home, and Fjord went out to the Menagerie Coast... and, well, you know how it goes..."

"Hmm..." Shulid said as a sort of perfunctory agreement, but his mind was elsewhere. For maybe the hundredth time, Beau marveled at all of the information Shulid had to take in at once. She could see why Liseth had said that pushing through the anamnesis process too quickly could drive a person insane. It made her mind spin just thinking about it.

Something pale and translucent flickered at the edge of Beau’s vision. She froze, pulling Shulid to a stop beside her.

“What is it?”

“_Shh._”

Beau surveyed her surroundings, all her senses on alert. Whatever she had seen, she couldn’t find it now, but she had the distinct feeling she was being watched.

“Beauregard!” Dairon’s voice echoed through the trees.

Beau turned and sprinted back to the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to end on another cliffie. No, actually I'm not sorry. Writing battles is hard and I'll take any opportunity I have to put it off :P But one more chapter and most of our people will be in the same place!
> 
> ETA: so after forgetting about Narrative Telephone for a while, I binged it last night and I'll just say I didn't write "the central vortex of the beacon's internal plane" as an intentional reference, but I'm tickled by the coincidence XD
> 
> (The place where consecuted souls theoretically go when they die also happens to be the hottest club in town, very exclusive)


End file.
